#ntzsche nuka world

[ntzsche9]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

thank you for the tag, @digital-chance. I love how this one forces you to look at your own work in such a positive way.

1. What motivates you to write?

Some of my characters are ANCIENT. Even when I went 5+ years without writing, they're still there, and I miss them. Daydreaming about stories and scenarios is my favorite hobby, especially during my work commute.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

From Ch 9(ish) of my Unnamed Nuka-World Fic:

From the corner of his eye, Luvell saw the Sunshine Tidings Co-op settlers jump and cheer, pumping their arms into the air. He couldn't hear them from the cataclysmic roar of the blast, but the rapture of revenge was clear on their faces. No one must be watching the settlement, with how many people were suddenly collected on the ridge. Even this far away, they could feel the sound and the heat threatening to bowl them over. He could hardly stare at the blast for more than a few seconds, and the people around him that didn't think to bring sunglasses dipped their hats and shielded their eyes. He had expected to be cheering, too, or at least relishing a deep satisfaction at finally striking back. Finally making someone pay for taking Lafayette from them. Instead, something inside him felt disquieted and out of place. This was too much. Too much like them. It wouldn't end here, it only raised the stakes. Things would get worse after this. Luvell glanced back at his parents, their faces brightly lit from the blast. Dave squinted behind his glasses, brows furrowed, still frowning. Gabe had tugged his goggles down over his eyes, and as the light made his tawny skin glow warm and golden, a toothy grin began to creep across his face. He watched the destruction with a growing smugness, a hand reaching up to squeeze Dave's shoulder. "He's gonna fuckin' haaate thiiis!" he relished happily when the world finally started to go quiet again.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

I should say my main boy Lafayette, because whew I love putting him through things, but it's his lunatic little ex-boyfriend Mateo that delights me the most. He's hot in a way that is absolutely unhelpful to everyone, lowkey a nerd about plants, loves making lil spooky crafts, and will undoubtable one day run a death cult. Every time I write him, he does something so ridiculous and over-reactive that I didn't predict and its always fun.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

When the juices are flowing, and you're almost passively watching the things happen in your head and just recording what is being said and done, and the characters are in control. Especially when they surprise you by reacting differently than you anticipated and now everyone else has to react to them.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Dialog? Maybe? Sometimes I really enjoy it, but that might just be self-indulgent.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

The little daily tokens of encouragement to keep writing, and to write for yourself.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Post-it notes. Lmao. I don't really use anything fancy, but as I'm reading, each and every book is gonna have at least one post-it note that is covered with page numbers, words I'm unfamiliar with, phrases I love or concepts I think I can use later. I have hundreds of notes like this and its a great source of inspiration when I need it.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I write mostly fanfics, so I can't claim the world as my own too often, but when writing Salem's Child, the bit about post-apocalyptic Salem, MA being overrun with black cats came out of nowhere at me and now I'm obsessed.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Plotting, or over-plotting, is what most often bogs me up. To shake it off, I try to look back on a major plot point and change it, and write how things would go differently. Did Dave survive getting his leg eaten off by cannibals? Write about what happens if he didn't. (In my case, everyone wigged out and killed each other, and it really made me appreciate how Dave holds the whole family together lol.) When it works, it almost always fixes my slump.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I'm still pretty new here, but no pressure to: @elean0rarose, @leebrontide, @touloserlautrec, @words-after-midnight and @ruinmegently

[ntzsche9]

He knows what to expect this time, but he still isn't prepared.

Nausea overwhelms him.

When he looks up into his eyes, they're alight with that same poisonous fury, wide and unfamilar. Lafayette sees the exact moment something snaps. The moment "It's either them, or us" becomes "It's either you, or me."

Their bond. Their blood. None of it matters anymore.

It stunned Lafayette the first time. It still stuns him now. But he knows all the right words to say this time. He feels them fall off his tongue at just the right moments, words he never could have summoned on his own. He sees his movements slow and flickering doubt actually begins to take hold, like maybe he can talk him down, maybe he can make him stop, make him finally understand-

But the only thing it changes is that Lafayette gets to the gun first. This time, he knows he needs to shoot him more than once.

Even when he is given a second chance, nothing changes.

It didn't matter what he said.

It didn't matter how much he needed him. How much he loved him.

Since the moment this whole mess started, only one of them was going to make it out alive.

Prompt #9

MC dies and arrives before the devil. They are forced to relive the worst day of their life. They are given all of the things that could fix whatever had gone wrong. But whatever they try to fix will eventually get ruined again.

[ntzsche9]

Anyone else get super disturbed by that scene from House of the Dragon where we find out the prince likes hanging out at a place that pit-fights children to the death?

Why is it so fun to write evil stuff like that???

Anyway, here's something awful. It's a random bit of writing about my Lafayette's raider daddy's childhood, cuz I have trouble making him sinister enough and gotta look back to destroy his humanity.

Dizz's origins for Bad Blood

Warnings: graphic violence, child-on-child murder, implied child abuse and neglect, profane language, found family gone terribly wrong

Eleven years old and tall for his age, Dizz is forced into his first pit fight to earn his keep and his place within his new "family".

Dust cake in the blood around his nose and mouth. The left side of his face felt stiff, but the pain hadn't caught up to him yet. The girl beneath him coughed, wet and choking. Her dirty face was flushed and vicious, her hands clawing up at him. He had a longer reach than her and reared his head back as he twisted the knife lodged between her ribs. She screamed and fought harder, desperate as an animal in a snare, blood quickly filling her lung. Dizz flinched as he became speckled in it when she coughed harder, blood bubbling up from her mouth and seeping between her teeth. Then she slowed, and as her eyes lost their focus he snatched the blade back to plunge it into her chest again, and again, and again, desperately for it to just be over.

The drunken, roaring applause of more than two dozen people drowned out her last gurgling breath.

Dizz stayed caged over her, chest heaving as he frantically looked around the arena for the next threat. The body of another child laid face-down in the dirt nearby, and after three rounds, no one else was shoved into the ring at him. It was only beginning to dawn on Dizz that he'd won when Sidney snatched him up by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

"I knew you had it in you, spitfuck!" the boy shouted over the din. Instinct had Dizz reeling back on him, but Sid caught his wrist before the knife got anywhere near him. Exhaustion was taking hold and slowing him down, and the older boy easily wrenched it from his grasp. Dizz watched him toss it aside - it hadn't been his in the first place. Sid couldn't stop grinning at him, his piercing blue eyes wild with glee as he looped an arm around his chest and dragged him from the makeshift arena.

"Pay up, bitches!" a large, barrel-chest man was reveling at the center of a dense crowd of raiders, few of which looking pleased. "100 from each of you twats!"

He didn't bother to look at the kids as they returned to his side, Sid easing Dizz down on a bench as he finally had the sense to contend with a deep cut across his calf that kept him from walking on his own. It was supposed to have sliced his achilles, and though it had landed too high, he couldn't use the leg. Dizz inspected the bloody, gaping wound with a grimace while Sid took his sweet time fetching a stimpack. He jammed in his thigh with no warning, and called him a pussy when Dizz cried out in surprise. 

There was so much dirt caked into the blood covering his body, drying it into a sticky sludge, making it hard to tell what was his and what wasn't. His adrenaline was still up, but without the momentum and distraction of fighting for his life, the injuries were making themselves known. His cheek was swelling beside a blackened eye, and his nose steadily dripped blood. These things were so common that it was more unusual if he didn't have a black eye or busted nose. The welts and slashes across his lean body were worse, but as the stimpack did its work, the lacerations grew tight and itchy as they worked themselves back together. Dizz gritted his teeth, hating the feeling almost as much as getting stabbed in the first place.

Only once he collected all his earnings did the large man turn to them. He looked Dizz over with a huge grin, making the hook-shaped scar running from one side of his mouth up to his ear crinkle.

Albert Jackson. "Smiling Jack," to his friends and acquaintances, but he was "Uncle Jack" to them. Dizz immediately dropped any hint of pain or discomfort from his face, head bowed slightly as he looked up at Jack from beneath a filthy mop of black curls. He knew a smile didn't make him any less mean. Even after his wins, even with his pockets brimming with caps, Dizz still didn't know if he had been good enough.

"Atta boy," Jack said fondly, giving him a rough shake by the shoulder. Dizz was a kid that didn't smile very often, and he wasn't any good at it. The smirk that dimpled his cheek didn't reach his eyes. "They didn't wanna play fair, sending in two after ya, huh? But I knew you were a demon, so I raised 'em double-or-nothing, and sure as shit you came through! You'll be eatin' good tonight, my boy!"

As he spoke, a stocky teen shouldered his way through the dispersing crowd to stand beside Jack, but didn't so much as look at Dizz. Nearly a man grown, Mutt was the oldest of them, and took post as Jack's bodyguard in case anyone thought about trying to get their losses back. A few moments later, a scrawny little girl with matted orange hair squirmed through the crowd to cackled at Dizz.

"I thought for sure your ass was done when that bitch pulled out that third knife!" Marigold grinned, words whistling through the gap from her missing front teeth.

"Mari," Jack reminded her, a sing-song tone in his voice as he held out his hand. Marigold went stiff, her smile gone, and whipped around.

"Just a little of this and that, Unc," she said in practiced nonchalance as she began emptying her pockets of all the things she had pilfered from raiders in the crowd. Caps, mostly, but a couple of mags of ammunition, a few explosives, a gold watch and a sturdy bowie knife. Marigold was still too little to be of any use in the pits, but she was tenacious and earned her keep in other ways. Despite her young age, she knew that being a wiry, crusty, gap-toothed little kid wouldn't spare her from what became of most girls who were alone in the wasteland, and was keen to never give Uncle Jack a reason to turn her out.

She held her breath as Jack considered the haul thoughtfully, then nodded his head. He wasn't impressed, but his good mood extended unexpected mercy. "Always put business first, baby," he said, and her shoulders relaxed. She turned back to Dizz, looking him over and was about to say something else when Jack declared they were leaving.

Dizz was lucky he turned to lead them away, because when he stood, he nearly blacked out. Sid was quick to catch him under his arms before he hit the ground. Glancing up quickly, Dizz felt only momentary relief before his eyes met Mutt's, the older boy smirking maliciously. Just behind him, Marigold pretended she hadn't seen a thing.

"Next time you oughta keep more blood in your body, dipshit," Sid said cheerfully, steadying him until he found his feet again. "You'll get the hang of it."

That night, in the derelict old house they bunkered down in before heading back home to the half-collapsed block of apartments the rest of Jack's gang inhabited, Jack made good on his word. He used a gemerous portion of the night's earnings to reward Dizz with a huge slab of steak, eggs and tatoes, with a luke warm beer to wash it down with. It was more food than he might see in a week. As ferociously as Dizz jumped on the spread, he was well aware of the target on his back as the other kids looked on - they had been told to fend for themselves, like usual. Jack announced he was going out for a drink, commanded them to stay put, and left.

Mutt was immediately on the other side of the table, staring down at the younger boy. Dizz paused, chewing slowly as he glared right back.

"You hot shit now, huh?" he asked, a mean smile inching across his face. He had a webbing of scars across his cheek and jaw, and his mouth didn't move much to that side. "Just because you didn't die tonight don't mean you won't die next time. They went fucking easy on your virgin ass."

Dizz watched as he plucked up the larger portion of the steak he had only just cut into. Mutt took an exaggerated bite, gnashing with his mouth opened and smirking when Dizz did nothing to stop him. He was at least five years older than him, and while Dizz was unusually tall for his age, Mutt still had at least 50 lbs on him. Even if he weren't exhausted and injured, he couldn't beat him in a fight. Mutt seemed appeased when he didn't rise to the bait, and as Dizz glowered up at him, he laughed and swiped the beer before walking out.

Sidney was more patient. He even smiled in inauthentic surprise and appreciation when Dizz split what he had left. It made Dizz furious to watch his hard-won meal dwindle to almost nothing, but he reminded himself that things would be different now. Dizz knew he hadn't just survived the pits, he had excelled. He had made Uncle Jack happy, and he would be more inclined to favor him now, to train and feed him and give him shelter. Sidney would take credit for his success, but even that would benefit Dizz. They were close in age and equal in size, though Sid was a bit older and sharper while Dizz was cautious and baby-faced, still growing into his increasingly lanky body. Rather than compete with each other, they would form an alliance now. Sid had promised as much - so long as Dizz won his fights. It had been a struggle for him to hide how desperately he wanted the older boy's friendship as they trained. As ravenous as he was after tonight's fights, Dizz would pay his dues.

He glanced at Marigold as he finally started shoveling the last of the food into his mouth in quick bites. She met his gaze for only a moment, long enough to look for any sympathy and, finding none, slinked away. She didn't bother catching Sid's eye. Fending for herself would be tricky when they were ordered to stay, and had already eaten up what little was to be found in the house, but it was nothing either of the boys were concerned about. For now, they were only focused on filling their bellies, and struggling to eat slow enough to remember how good it tasted.

[ntzsche9]

So, hi! I'm Verne (they/them), practically a queer elder in my 30s, brand new to tumblr (dunno how I ever missed the boat), and I only ever seem to write in the 20 minutes or so between pulling up to work and clocking in, or when I'm putting my toddlers down for a nap but don't want to crawl out of their beds and address the chores I gotta do while they're out of the way. I've written poetry, prose, and roleplayed in the past but got away from it for years and years, and only recently started writing again. I have notebooks and lists of story ideas but the few things I have fleshed out are mostly silly character-based "what if?" scenarios, because those are the most fun to me. Too many of my stories are me simply wanting to write a scene, developing a bit of a world around it, then losing interest entirely. I hope this blog can change that a bit, help me focus on following through or figuring out how to better develop small ideas into something longer.

Interests:

Post-apocalyptic

Near-future dystopias

Scifi/Fantasy (urban) with magical realism

History/AltHistory (especially lesser-known and marginalized stories)

Horror, dark, violent, and mature themes

Queer everything. I can't write heteros to save my life and I'm not all that sorry about it.

Sexy melodrama and smut with too much plot

Fanfiction (I could read/write Fallout stuff all day)

Some Favorite Authors:

Octavia Butler

Nnedi Okorafor

VE Schwab

Starhawk

Madeline Miller

Ta-nehisi Coates

Becky Chambers

Emma Donoghue

Looking for:

Community, inspiration, other writers to follow, and problem-solving tips in storytelling and sticking to stories when things get tough. I really just need some folks to talk to when working through all the things in my head. Open to the occasional tag but I'm not great at responding.

I have plenty more little bits of nonsense in various states of readability, like character backgrounds, alt-ending scenes, slice-of-life banter between characters, etc. These will be posted under the tag #ntzsche misc

Noteworthy WIPs:

Bad Blood - A Fallout Nuka-World fanfic (#ntzsche Nuka-World)

My longest story is a fanfic, but with a cast of characters largely not in the Fallout 4 DLC. I intend to eventually write this in a way that someone who hasn't played the game would be able to easily read.

Lafayette, the son of a 'retired' raider, left his abusive father to find his place in the world and was taken in by an eclectic trauma-bonded found family that inspires him to be a better person and shows him love he is certain he doesn't deserve. When his father comes across them in a raid, Lafayette is given the offer to join him, and he agrees in order to save the settlement and his little brother. Lafayette finds that being with his dad again, and being the son he always wanted him to be, isn't nearly as difficult as he thought it would be. He struggles to maintain the person he wants to be with the person he suspects he is, all while a cast of scheming raiders, wastelanders, and slaves vie for power in the raider city built within the rusted remains of an amusement park.

Salem's Child (#ntzsche Salem)

A background on one of the lesser Nuka-World characters that I got carried away with.

Andrew Rook doesn't look like his parents. He looks like someone they are desperate to forget. Growing up in post-apocalyptic Salem, Massachusetts has it's perks, though. In a fading settlement run by incompetent men who would rather blame the population of feral black cats for their problems than try to solve them, Andrew and his two best friends build a world in their imagination that shields them from the wretchedness of the wasteland and the people they have to rely on to survive.

Hechizo

Another character background that I would love to expand into a few short stories around.

Mateo Zavala was born in the vibrant and tight-knit community of Navarro. His great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother, a pre-war ghoul, is still the ruling matriarch, and it's hard for her not to play favorites when she has over 300 living descendants.

The Crash (#ntzsche Crash)

A what-if real-world rewrite of an event from another story. I just really enjoy writing these two.

Gabe always knew his functional alcoholic roomie would get into a terrible car wreck some day, but he never thought he would be dumb enough to be in the car with him. When the consequences of the wreck threaten to destroy Dave's life, Gabe finds himself doing everything he can to hold those pieces together. The love he harbors for his straight, polyamorous best friend runs deeper than either of them are ready to face, and find that Dave's injury turns their relationship completely on end.

[ntzsche9]

Finally getting around to the word search tag game!

@digital-chance had tagged me a while ago with variety, usual, same, and change, and I learned that I use the word "usual" way too much, "variety" never, and couldn't find good examples of the other two 😅

@amielbjacobs tagged me with struggle, harsh, quiet, and page and I had much better luck. All of these are from my Fallout 4 fic, Bad Blood.

Struggle

Lafayette looked back over his shoulder and the sight of his brother watching him leave was searing. Luvell's face was streaked with tears, teeth bared as he struggled to keep from sobbing.

Harsh

Dizz had never willingly brought up his mother, not once in his entire life. Lafayette used to ask about her when he was very young, but was so harshly rebuked each and every time that he quickly learned better.

Quiet

He had to kill her. Quick, quiet, right the fuck now-

Page

He flipped through the notebooks, hoping for a diary to read, but only finding page after page of nonsensical coding, mathematics, schematic drawings, and disjointed notes.

This tag seems to have really made the rounds, but I'll tap in @winterandwords, @kae-luna, @autumnalwalker, and @touloserlautrec in case you haven't done it recently

Your words are surprise, carry, snap, and force.

[ntzsche9]

I finally settled on a name for my main wip, and now I can do a proper intro & a mood board! I have been utterly STUCK with this story for a couple of months now, and I'm just trying to get into the vibes in hopes of grabbing that tiger's tail again.

Bad Blood

A Fallout Nuka-World Fic

Warnings: violence, gore, slavery, sexual content with dubious consent, referenced SA, drug and alcohol abuse, m/m, 18+

Lafayette, the son of a 'retired' raider, left his abusive father to find his place in the world and was taken in by an eclectic trauma-bonded found family that inspires him to be a better person and shows him love he is certain he doesn't deserve. When his father comes across them in a raid, Lafayette is given the offer to join him, and he agrees in order to save the settlement and his little brother. Lafayette finds that being with his dad again, and being the son he always wanted him to be, isn't nearly as difficult as he thought it would be. He struggles to maintain the person he wants to be with the person he suspects he is, all while a cast of scheming raiders, wastelanders, and slaves vie for power in the raider city built within the rusted remains of an amusement park.

Chapter 3

Super wip, and I won't be posting more than exerpts at this time. I'll update this post with what does get posted. This is also like, volume 3 of a story that started as a roleplay (volume 1), so one or two of these characters aren't entirely mine (noteably, Gabe.) I might post experts from volume 2, titled Sanctuary, which gets referenced pretty heavily in this story. It also occassionally includes minor characters from the game. I'm trying to find a way to write this as a stand-alone story but I am really far from that, and struggling just to make it make sense to anyone unfamiliar with fallout 4.

More under #ntzsche nuka-world

[ntzsche9]

Of the 16 or so chapters I've written of my Nuka-World fanfic, the only chapter I am satisfied with is chapter 3. It came early on, was clear and easy, and the characters stayed in character. While the story was largely situational, and I could let the characters tell me what to do and things were easy. Then I went and tried to plot and now I am horribly, wretchedly stuck. Most of the characters don't want to do what I want them to and nothing is easy.

I thought I would post this in an attempt to defibrillate this damn thing back to being easier to write. One of the parts I like least is the very beginning, so I dunno if I will ever post more than pieces, really.

Bad Blood

A Fallout Nuka-World fanfic

Chapter 3

Warnings: Violence and gore, drug abuse, slavery, sexual themes with dubious consent, m/m

After agreeing to return with his father to the raider city built on the backs of slaves in the rusted remains of an amusement park, Lafayette does what he can to play the role until he can figure out what the hell to do with himself. He can only pretend for so long, though. After watching slaves be fed to a monster for the amusement of the raiders, he tries to protect a slave too drugged to realize what is about to happen to him.

When the screams finally subsided, the wet crunching of flesh and bone made the swill Lafayette had been throwing back all night roll in his belly. He never thought of himself as someone who was particularly sensitive to violence or gore, with how he grew up hunting and all the other shit he'd been through, but the intimate sounds of an enraged gatorclaw eating a pair of poorly-armed slaves alive had his hair standing on end and stomach beginning to heave. He had to get the fuck out of here, but he had to time it right, play it off. He knew he was being as closely watched as ever.

Porter Gage lounged boredly beside him. He had been making a half-hearted attempt to distract him with some wild account from his youth. Lafayette hadn't been listening. His dad and Mason both stood nearby, their backs to them. Dizz gnawed at the scorched limb of some strange creature the raider gang bred beneath the amphitheater, his appetite unphased, and Mason leaned against the high fence of the cage as he watched his new pet. 

The Overboss had a different tactic for handling the leaders of each gang, but despite how amicable they seemed now, he took particular joy in humiliating Mason. In the most recent of a long series of backhanded transgressions, Dizz had led Porter and Lafayette on a good old fashioned hunting trip, just the three of them, to clear out Safari Adventure. He had been putting pressure on Mason to do some real work himself, but the man had decided to act like the Overboss still needed to prove something to them. The Pack assumed they would receive the larger portion of the park zoo, especially since the Operators had already been granted the Galactic Zone and the Disciples were given Dry Rock Gulch. Instead, the Overboss assigned it to the Operators, and he didn't even give Mason a chance to be angry about it before the three of them returned with perhaps the last surviving gatorclaw as a consolation gift.

Not only was the Pack incapable of clearing the park out themselves, but Mason couldn't have pulled off capturing one of the monsters, much less made it look so easy. Dizz was bigger, fiercer, bolder, even more scarred than the Pack's alpha. He took out the previous Overboss while Mason was only posturing. Porter had been delighted to spread the old rumor to the Pack that the new head hancho's shredded face was from fucking a deathclaw, and they ate the story up. It served to put Mason's claim of biting the paw off a yao guai to shame. Mason dismissed the story as an obvious joke, but when the three of them strolled into the amphitheater that night, Dizz and Lafayette leading a bound and exhausted gatorclaw by its duct taped muzzle, there was no doubt in anyone's mind who the strongest among them was. Even his fresh-faced son stood at a close second, above Mason.

As they partied that night, Mason's amicable demeanor would occasionally slip when he thought the Overboss wasn't looking. Dizz must have felt the daggers glaring into his back, but it made him all the more relaxed, as if encouraging him to try something. They both knew an open confrontation wouldn't end well for Mason, no matter how angry he got. Porter was quick to point out each subtle passive aggression to Lafayette, and was far more entertained by that than the cage fights.

"My girl is still starving, look at her!" Mason loudly announced, words slurred. He had been tempering his rage with alcohol and jet, which left him leaning heavily against the top of the fence and well within reach of the gatorclaw. He was lucky it was still preoccupied with rooting around in the bloody crumbs of its last victim. "She's wasting away. Someone bring 'er another snack!"

"We're all out, boss."

"How the fuck did that happen!?"

"We were running low on captives after last night. You want someone to buy some more from the market?"

"Nah, fuck it," Mason said with a dark grin. He had spotted the red glow of one last collar after all. 

The Pack didn't keep slaves around for long. They might use them for a day or two, however they saw fit, but they always met the same end. Lafayette had heard there were dungeons below the amphitheater where they would handcuff captives to the bars while whatever starved beast they were training to fight ate them alive. No, when the Pack felt like having a party, they would rent a few whores from the brothel in the Parlor, and usually send them back in one piece - the Operators would expect them to pay extra if they didn't. This late in the night, they had all been dragged off to some place or another, all except one. Lafayette had noticed him briefly earlier, the back of his strawberry-blonde head bobbing between the legs of some stupid-looking raider in a horned stag helmet huffing jet in the stands.

Mason sharply whistled for his attention. "C'mere, boy. Yeah, you! Bring your ass, I got a job for you," he grinned. 

The slave was young, heavily freckled but attractive by Nuka-World standards. Even with his messy hair hanging in his face it was clear he was stoned out of his gourd. He hadn't a goddamn clue what was happening, and despite it being obvious that Mason meant him harm, he began to walk over willingly. He even smiled.

"Wait!" Lafayette found himself shouting. Everyone jerked their heads up to look at him after he'd spent half the night sullen and quiet. Dizz glanced over with a look of warning, eyes narrowed as he tore another bite off the large charred bone in his hand.

Lafayette turned his best lecherous grin on the slave as he passed, reaching over to grab his wrist and yank him closer. "Sorry, Mason. I been waiting my turn for this one."

"Hey, no worries, Junior," Mason sneered with an annoyed smile. "Just let me get him when you're done."

"Nah, man. I'm gonna take him back to Fizztop and call it a night," Lafayette said, standing to throw an arm over the guy's shoulders. He took great care to not touch the explosive collar on his neck - even being this close to one made him nervous. "Why don't you try one of your ghoulrillas? There were enough of them living in Adventure Zone that I bet it would make a more interesting fight."

"Shiiiit, that's a goddamn good idea!" The drunk man grinned before he turned sharply to shout after the other raiders, "Steg! Go get Motherfucker! And give him the super sledge!"

"Well now, your boy's finally gettin' laid," Porter chuckled to Dizz, walking over to elbow him in the arm. "Guess all that father-son bonding cheered him up after all."

"About damn time," Dizz chuckled. When he held Lafayette's gaze a beat too long, Lafayette knew he had seen right through him.

Lafayette didn't really give a fuck. He would keep up appearances in front of the gangs because it wasn't just bad for his dad's image, it was dangerous for him, too. They had already demanded he be put through the gauntlet and he had done what he'd needed to to survive, but he was still a target. His father, however, couldn't expect him to become a different fucking person since then.

Lafayette was also pretty pissed at himself again tonight, because their hunting trip in Adventure Zone earlier that day had been fun. It felt like old times. His dad was laid back, less on edge and exhausted as he had always been when Lafayette was a kid. He seemed to trust Lafayette to hold his own now, let him do things his own way. Lafayette still didn't have a high opinion of Gage, but the older men joked and hooted as they worked their way to the basements of the cloning facility, killing everything that moved, and Lafayette got caught up in the thrill of it. He laughed at their banter, and soon any time his dad clapped him on the back or threw an arm around his shoulders, Lafayette had found himself grinning right back.

It was hard to maintain that you were being held against your will when you got happy your goddamn daddy was paying you some attention. Sure, the man he was now was closer to what he always should have been - warmer, more relaxed and agreeable, believably paternal. The years of living on the bare minimum, then the psycho addiction, had done a number on him, but Lafayette would never write off all the awful fucking things he did because of it. He saw enough of his swagger around Nuka-World to know Dizz was still every bit as capable and willing to do all the same things, and more. He was the same man who torched settlements, hung people off overpasses, and collared people into slavery. He was the same man who helped carve Gabe up and beat the brakes off of him just for fun, and would have otherwise put Luvell in a collar without a second thought.

He was at home, here.

Lafayette was relieved when they all just let him walk out of there, for more reasons than one. To his credit, the guy under his arm kept up with his longer stride well for as inebriated as he was. His eyes were as pale as his skin, indiscernible in color, and his pupils blown wide.

"Did you say we were going to the top of the mountain?" he asked with a grin, a hand petting up Lafayette's chest to toy with his nipple through his shirt.

"Uh, yeah," Lafayette said, glancing around before pushing his hand away. He hadn't exactly expected a slave to be so forward, but every inch of this place was crawling with raiders right to Fizztop. There were few places in this whole goddamn park that Lafayette didn't have eyes watching his every move. He would have to keep up with the charade until they were inside.

"What's your name?" Lafayette asked, and this time he let the man's skinny arm wrap around the small of his back, fingertips sneaking into the waist of his jeans.

"Dandy," he said with a stifled laugh, like he was telling a joke.

"Dandy? Like the apples?"

"Dandy like the apples," he grinned. "And they call you Junior, right?"

"They call me that," he scowled. "But my name is Lafayette."

"Mmm, La-fa-yette," he sang softly, both hands now heavily petting Lafayette's torso beneath his shirt. Dandy bit his lower lip and purred, "What are you planning to do to me tonight?"

"Knock it off," Lafayette said quietly, the two still not past the Disciple's lair.

Dandy flinched at his tone, his hands withdrawing and his gaze dropping to the ground immediately. "Yes sir, I'm sorry."

Lafayette felt awful. He sighed and squeezed the man's shoulder. "It's alright, just.. wait until we get up there, and alone. Then we'll talk."

Dandy didn't say anything the rest of the way. Lafayette kept an arm around him, holding his body close, and led him through the lobby and up the back elevator. He didn't often have Fizztop to himself - he didn't really get much privacy at all, but once they stepped off the elevator he relaxed.

"You hungry?" he asked, letting the man go.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" Lafayette lingered. He had seen how the slaves got treated, what they were fed. Being from the brothel he might get a little better than the usual, but he sure didn't look like it. Dandy shook his head, looking around as if he expected someone else to be there. He still wouldn't meet Lafayette's eye.

"Well.. let me know," Lafayette said, unsure himself. "My room is over here, the kitchen is that way down the hall, and the bathroom is over there. The water works, if you need a shower or anything."

That seemed to pique his interest a bit, but still he walked to the bedroom. Lafayette followed him and lingered awkwardly in the doorway. When Dandy started to strip off his shirt he quickly said, "Hey, no. That's not why I brought you here."

Dandy lowered his arms, his thin white shirt taut between them. "What do you want me to do?" he asked carefully, chancing a brief look back at him.

"Fuck if I know," he sighed. "We're not having sex. Just.. hang out, for an hour or two? Or the whole night, whatever. Eat something, take a shower, whatever you want. My dad and Porter will be back before too long, though, and once they do you should stay in here with me."

Dandy stood there, blinking slowly. Lafayette wondered if he was too high to even understand what he was saying, much less shower or eat. "Or you can just sleep. I only got the one bed, so we gotta share but.. No sex."

"Wait, what?"

"You'll be safe if you stay the night here. And you can look at me. Fuck, I hate this fucking place."

Dandy slowly looked up, his hazy expression still baffled. Lafayette huffed in frustration and reached over to hit the light. There was a string of christmas lights along one wall, casting the room in dim but colorful hues. After closing and locking the door with a set of hooks and a chain he had hammered into the wall himself, Lafayette walked to the other side of the bed. He turned away to take off his jeans, and climbed into bed in his shirt and boxers.

"Get some rest, Dandy," he prompted him, dividing his pillows and shifting to one side of the bed to make space. Then he rolled over, facing away from him.

He listened to Dandy breath in the quiet room for a minute or so. Then there was the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and eventually he felt the mattress shift as the other man climbed in next to him.

…….

A few hours later, Dandy woke up, and hadn't the slightest idea where the fuck he was. There was the broad back of a very tall man beside him, and at first he guessed it was the Overboss. He'd blown him once, back when he was first getting to know the gangs and Mags wanted to make a good impression. The man never gave him a second glance, but Dandy distinctly remember that he was fucking hung. His head was pounding, but his body wasn't any more sore than usual. He was only missing his shirt, and the other man looked fully dressed. 

He carefully sat up and slid off the mattress, shifting the bed as little as possible. It was Junior, he realized, getting a better look at him in the dim lights. It still didn't make any sense that he would be in the guy's bed without feeling wrecked, though. Dandy didn't puzzle about it much more, tugging his shirt back on and checking his pockets. 

He only had thirty caps. He couldn't go back without one hundred and fifty. Maybe one-twenty, if he could sweet talk his way out of a beating.

He cursed under his breath and looked around. He still didn't know where he was, though now he assumed it was somewhere above Fizztop. The room was jarringly neat, for a raider. The floors were swept, furniture sparse but uncluttered. It took him a few minutes of creeping around, nearly holding his breath in the quiet space as he slowly eased open footlockers and drawers, making sure to put everything back just right. When he found a small fortune of caps, he grabbed two handfuls before he managed to check himself. If he robbed Junior it would be a goddamn death sentence. No, he would just take one hundred. Maybe one-twenty, just what he needed. He probably wouldn't even notice, right?

Dandy sorted himself out and glanced worriedly around the room, afraid something would be amiss. His heart was hammering, and he gave the sleeping man one last look before he carefully eased out the door.

[ntzsche9]

Hopped on this tag game posted by @eldritch-flower cuz it looked fun.

Rules: Include one character quote of your choosing ⁠from each chapter of your WIP (or as many chapters as you'd like). Give absolutely no context, save for what's between two parts of an interrupted sentence, should that occur. You may mention who said it. Have fun! No pressure!

This is gonna be for Bad Blood, but some chapters are still in such tiny pieces that I couldn't pick from them.

Chapter 2 - Dizz

"You were too small to reach all the locks on the door to get out, but you knew how to shoot a man dead. You woulda shot me, too, but you'd run out of bullets. Still bit the shit outta me when I grabbed you, though."

Chapter 4 - Luce

"Looky looky what I found sneaking ‘round the mountain,” Luce sneered, gripping the smaller man upright by his hair, smug as a cat returning home to present his prey as a gift. “How'd you lose track of your shit already, Junior?”

Chapter 5 - Dave

"Ohhhhh-kay buddy," Dave said slowly and began dragging the chair away from the computers, and Luvell with it. "No more all-nighters with the artillery system."

Chapter 10 - Luce

“Listen, Dix. Be a doll and shut the fuck up about all this, huh?”

Chapter 12 - Jonah

"Lafayette, this is Josephine," Jonah introduced, gesturing between the two. "Josie, Lafayette. He's gonna help us kill all these motherfuckers."

[ntzsche9]

Here's to a fresh intro! I'm Verne (they/them), practically a queer elder in my 30s and too many of my stories are me simply wanting to write a scene, developing a bit of a world around it, then losing interest entirely. I’m still trying to figure out how to break that curse, but in the meantime, I’m just going to chase inspiration and post odds and ends here. I used to be an avid role-player, and my small cast of OCs from those days provide the greatest and easiest inspiration - particularly in the setting of the Fallout Universe. I do my best to write for a reader who is unfamiliar with the series, though.

Interests:

Post-apocalyptic

Near-future dystopias

Scifi/Fantasy (urban) and magical realism

History/AltHistory (especially lesser-known and marginalized stories)

Horror, dark, violent, and mature themes

Queer everything. I can't write heteros to save my life and I'm not all that sorry about it.

Sexy melodrama and smut with too much plot

Fanfiction (I could read/write Fallout stuff all day)

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Noteworthy WIPs:

Bad Blood - A Fallout Nuka-World fanfic (tag: #ntzsche Nuka-World)

I hope to eventually write this comprehensively enough to post on AO3 but for now, I work on this story to practice becoming a better writer. Incomplete Prequel: Sanctuary.

Lafayette, the son of a 'retired' raider, left his abusive father to find his place in the world and was taken in by an eclectic trauma-bonded found family that inspires him to be a better person and shows him love he is certain he doesn't deserve. When his father comes across them in a raid, Lafayette joins him in order to save the settlement and his little brother. Lafayette finds that being with his dad again, and playing the son he always wanted him to be, isn't nearly as difficult as he thought it would be. He struggles to maintain the person he wants to be with the person he suspects he is, all while a cast of scheming raiders, wastelanders, and slaves vie for power in a raider city built within the rusted remains of an amusement park.

Salem's Child - (tag: #ntzsche Salem)

A background on one of the lesser Bad Blood characters that I got carried away with.

Andrew Rook doesn't look like his parents. He looks like someone they are desperate to forget. The witchy remains of post-apocalyptic Salem, Massachusetts provide some solace from his rough home life. In a fading settlement run by incompetent adults who would rather blame the population of feral black cats for their problems than try to resolve them, Andrew and his two best friends build a world in their imagination that shields them from the wretchedness of the wasteland and the people they have to rely on to survive.

Navarro (working title) - (tag: #ntzsche Zavala)

Multi-generational short stories. Inspired heavily by Fallout universe, but reads as a stand-alone. Temporarily on hold pending a sensitivity beta reader for a few of the stories.

María Zavala, an aging curandera, happily sacrifices her place in a vault to her pregnant chicano daughter and faces the nuclear apocalypse alone. When radiation blesses her with immortality, she survives long enough for her great-grandchild to come home to her, and the family finds a way to flourish against great odds. Under their immortal matriarch, her descendants become the foundation for a town that is a bastion in an otherwise inhospitable world.

The Crash - (tag: #ntzsche Crash)

A real-world AU. 

Gabe always knew his functional alcoholic roomie would get into a terrible car wreck someday, but he never thought he would be dumb enough to be in the car with him. When the consequences of the wreck threaten to destroy Dave's life, Gabe finds himself doing everything he can to hold those pieces together. The love he harbors for his straight, polyamorous best friend runs deeper than either of them are ready to face, but Dave's injury makes it that much harder to hide.

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Miscellaneous

Master list of writing posts, mostly backstories, one-shots, and excerpts (tag: #ntzsche misc).

Every You and Every Me - Cosmic horror flash-fiction

Misc Fallout Fiction

Typically taking place before the events of Bad Blood, roughly in chronological order:

Smiling Jack - Backstory for Dizz

Vault 112 - Backstory for Dave and Gabe

If Dave Had Died - What-if scenario from prior to Sanctuary

Sanctuary - How Lafayette became a part of his new family, direct prequel to Bad Blood

The Boston Library - One-shot writing prompt containing Lafayette and Luvell, after Sanctuary

OC Intro - most of my recurrent OCs have their own tags.

(some links forthcoming)