#the fallout of the previous posts

[thewolfisawake]

"That is quite the conundrum to present, Balmoral. If not knowing of the other realms, I would find it difficult to believe. Although likely it will be a while, preparation in case of landfall is help--"

The king interrupted, "It's already in the Unseelie."

"Excuse me?"

Despite his disdain for it, Balmoral repeated, "It's already in the Unseelie. It has been since we left to meet the Seelie. I was uncertain of what it was at the time. However, since Creation allowed us to know what it was like around something corrupted, I am now certain it is here. Plans for quarantine are to be made and to be executed immediately because of that."

"Ashes and dust, Bal, you could've started with that!" Norval cried.

"I am informing you now and awaiting suggestion."

"Our quarantine zone certainly can't be in the citadel. Despite the likelihood of most cases coming from here. Why not the settlements on the surface? They're technically the furthest from us."

"No," Risteard soundly rejected the idea, "we are entering the harvest season, which means there are an abundance of hands flocking to the surface. If there is an outbreak up there, it is simply going to spread with the supply lines. And we cannot cancel the harvest altogether lest we intend to end up bartering outside the Unseelie for those losses. Norval, do you have the settlement maps?"

"Aye, aye~" he went and pulled out large hoop and headed towards middle of the war room's table. With a crack of his fingers and a firm slam onto the surface, wooden structures cascaded. They reflected the elevations and ridges and, of course, the establishments that encompassed the Unseelie's influence. The citadel was its center point with spider webs of caverns leading this way and that towards various pockets that reflected their own form of civilization.

Norval quipped, "We are in a bit of bind though. No one's just going to offer up their place for us to set up. Especially if it's some plague that can affect all the races within Unseelie."

"Why would we need to ask when we have the Beautiful Tyrant to order the relocation where he so pleases?" Risteard remarked, earning an amused snort from Balmoral. It was an option but he wasn't looking to cause tension in a time they needed all the unity they could muster. His eye examined the various paths, recalling his days trekking through and the encounters during the unification campaign.

"...We could do the Demilune Spring," Balmoral spoke, looking towards where it should be, "We push the approval of establishment and set up priority constructs. Those that are sent there can help clear out...the remnants and any further projects within capability. Of course compensated for their work and returned home when the cure is administered to them."

Siubhan appeared pensive as she said, "While I am not against hitting two birds with a stone, I do believe we owe both our opponents and our folks a clean sweep before throwing them into a graveyard. Of course, I would lead that and will depart this evening so that we might have this underway quickly. We can discuss providing security at this new quarters when I return. Please excuse me, Your Majesty, everyone."

She didn't look to him but Balmoral understood her stance. She was an honorable woman, after all. The Demilune Spring had been a sight of one of many atrocities committed for the sake of unification. To Balmoral, it was a necessary sacrifice. To Siubhan, it was a loss of good folks under her care. He couldn't deny her wishing to honor them before it became a Corruption 'infirmary. '

"For now, we will have to deal with finding corruption ourselves," Risteard said, leveling a look knowing his arrogance, "since your participation is out of the question, Balmoral. The last thing we need is the king getting infected. Considering the magnitude of this, we'll have to call that one to start calculating a how we might do a locator spell, a barrier erected properly...teleportation possibly as well."

"If the Corruption allows that to go through," Solanine reminded as she filed her claws, "but they're more an authority than me so let's hope we have a shot so we don't have to lose too many troops for escort."

"...I shudder thinking how that's gonna go. This is already gonna be a tough sale as is," Norval said sadly. His eyes darted between his compatriots. They seemed to be in silent agreement before he continued, "....which is why, Your Majesty, we have to address the other matter at hand."

To that, Balmoral looked over the table at his generals. His eye narrowed. He knew there was other reason besides exhaustion why Mhoirbheinn hadn't been in attendance. It pained him to have to separate so soon after it had caused such a stir with his lover but it couldn't be avoided for long. Especially with the Corruption already going to be an issue. But this coming up when it did...it didn't sit well with the king. He grit out, "On with it then."

[tevintersnakes]

Lab tech brain compels me to ramble through my OC

[dawllick]

Here, a doodle that will not be finished anytime soon

But this will also be me manifesting the whole

“It’s cold at night but the ghoul is warm bc radiation”

[cannedpeachlover]

beating my video game son for views

[sirmanmister]

Real life has been kicking my ass lately so you know what that means!

“People don’t come out of that place alive.”

“I can imagine.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

Two soldiers stood on the end of a vertibird catwalk, watching the vehicle beside them warm up. One dragged on a cigarette and narrowed their eyes at the other through the smoke.

“I ain’t gonna kill him, Rhys,” Damien said. “He volunteered to come with me.”

“Because it’s his duty to babysit you,” Rhys shot back. “Danse is a good man, but he’s an even better leader, which means he isn’t going to let any member of his squad head into the Glowing Sea by themselves. He’s the type of man to die for something he believes in, and he believes in the Brotherhood. Not you.”

Rhys gave Damien a long, withering look, nostrils flaring like the very sight of Damien in an orange flight suit enraged him.

“Think about what it is you really want in there,” Rhys said carefully. “And then think about it again and decide if it's worth the life of a good man.”

Damien’s slight irritation at Rhys’ continued badgering rose abruptly into something far more pronounced. Damien could handle not being liked, but Rhys was toeing a very delicate line.

Damien’s intentions behind joining the Brotherhood were no secret, and Rhys was one of the few that knew more about them than anybody else. He’d seen Damien at the police station, biting back tears when they couldn’t give him any help with Shaun; he’d been in the room when Damien had met with Danse and Maxson and exchanged information on the institute for a place within their ranks. Rhys had known the stakes from the start.

“You’ve got a problem with the way things are, you can take it up with Danse,” Damien said through grit teeth. “I’m going in there with, or without his company.”

“You’ve got a deathwish.”

“Wanna join me?”

Rhys scoffed incredulously and gave Damien a pitying look. With a shake of his head, Rhys turned and marched back down the catwalk.

[grease-weasel]

fallout 4 babygirl doodles (three middle aged men and their adoptive son)

[kyngsnake]

I understand the appeal of the Miraak redemption arc, and I did at one time write a 40k fic about that exact premise, but a “they make each other worse” dynamic is calling to me this time around

[vault81]

created the first character sheet for my oc's! this one is for Jack! (i did end up just using a template in the end, i'll finish the one i made later)

[nekioka]

Headcanon: Even though Benny hasn’t read books that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t read stuff. In fact he reads a lot of magazines! That's why he actually knows more about Mr. House's history than Georgia does.

[gawdz0rz]

am i crazy or can anyone else hear whispers near one of the graves you can loot in goodsprings cemetery

[falloutstasis]

Quest Continued: There’s a reason why I sing, so give it all

□ Defend and help out the people of Concord.

Concord, Massachusetts

There was still laser shot noises across Concord when they arrived. When the group of four rushed towards the town, the first thing they heard was MacCready's voice.

"Get away from my son!" He yelled out, grabbing the attention of one Special Forces soldier. From afar, he sniped the soldier, right on his head, popping it right off.

Kelsey ran in front of the others with Duality in hand, already ready to be used. "Duncan!"

His son, Duncan, spotted Kelsey and rushed towards her, hugging her as tight as he could. "Kelsey, my mom and brother-"

The poor boy was crying his eyes out and was scared out of his mind. Cassidy kneeled down to his level and so did Kelsey.

"Hey, Duncan." When she called out his name, Duncan looked at her.

"Stay with Cassidy, okay? He'll keep you safe. And we'll make sure your mom and brother are safe too."

He nodded and did his best to wipe the tears off of his face, but more just kept pouring in. "O-Okay."

"Come on, kiddo." Cassidy picked him up and rushed out of Concord with the remaining survivors as far away as he could.

As soon as the coast was clear, MacCready rushed towards the three, seeing now his son was safe and out of harms way. "Guys! Bad news!"

"Yeah, we can see that!" Hancock responded.

MacCready groaned and hushed Hancock. "Other than this mess! It's Deacon! He's in bad shape."

The minute she heard that Deacon is in trouble, getting in front of MacCready. "Where is he?"

"He's in the small coffee shop straight ahead, bleeding out on his shoulder. There's other people with him there that are helping him. But I figured that you can take a look at him better than most. I cleared the guys that are out there."

"We'll take of these punks here." Hancock said.

"Go take care of Deacon and the others!" Nick yelled, before joining Hancock and MacCready on the other side of the town.

"Thanks!" Driven by concern for Deacon, she rushed straight ahead. The trip didn't take much long and she turned the knob, noticing that it was locked. She knocked on the front door, instead of banging it.

"Hey! Open up! I need to get inside!" She yelled out.

Instead of the door opening, she was meet by a voice on the other side of the door. "N-No way! How do I know you're not one of those Special Forces assholes?!"

"I'm with Nick Valentine! Open up, please!"

She heard another voice. One she heard clearly and recognized very quickly.

"Let her in! She's a medic..." Deacon took a big risk on letting someone in the coffee shop, but when he heard it was Kelsey on the other side of the door, he had to let her in. He had trusted her enough through their adventures in the Capital Wasteland and her joining the Railroad.

As it turned out, one of the settlers in Concord opened the door and let Kelsey in. She quickly got in and heard the door lock behind her. When she turned to see Deacon, he had a cut piece of shirt on his shoulder that was tied and meant to stop the bleeding. Some blood had poured down, just a bit.

There were at least 5 settlers and Deacon trapped here in this coffee shop. Deacon was sitting against the wall to support himself. The blood was a bit dry on the wall, which told Kelsey at some point, Deacon was standing before he eventually sat against the wall.

Quickly, she kneeled down to loosen the piece of shirt and started apply antibiotics she grabbed from her bag.

"You look like shit." She joked, clearly worried and nervous within her features. She took off his white shirt and took a look at the wound. It was a laser shot right to the shoulder. Which she wasn't surprised, given that the weapons that the Special Forces were using were laser weapons. She wrapped fresh bandages on Deacon.

"Speak for yourself." He smiled weakly. "Hello to you too."

He winced when Kelsey tightened the bandage on his shoulder, but otherwise helped stop the bleeding. She helped Deacon put his shirt back on, got him seated on an empty chair, and looked at everyone around her.

"Is anyone else hurt?" She asked around the settlers. One approached her, a young female adult, who was previously standing next to a man that looked old enough to be her father.

"I have this cut..." She trailed off.

Kelsey stood up and checked the cut this woman had. It was on her palm, across her pinkie to her thumb. It wasn't deep, but it was better to get this fixed before it would get infected. As she wrapped a bandage around her hand, she figured it was best to ask questions.

"What the hell happened here?"

This time a man spoke out, the same one that was with the young adult a moment ago. He was handing out water and other drinks from the fridge to the reminding settlers in the shop. "I was with my daughter when it happened," He said pointing at the young adult.

"And out of no where, those military goofballs with laser pistols starts yelling at people. Saying that Concord need to be 'cleansed of their sins' and whatnot. Next thing we knew, one of them starts shooting at the settlers. I tried to get people near me to the shop. This guy," He pointed at Deacon, who smiled and waved. "Was the last one to get in my shop to make sure everyone got in. He got shot on the shoulder before he entered himself. I had to drag him by his foot to get him inside the shop."

"God." She murmured to herself. "If it's not one thing it's the other."

Deacon looked a little confused. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Goodneighbor got hit with these assholes." She explained, having to recall the memory a day ago. "They took four people there, including Hancock."

"Really?" Deacon couldn't believe it. This was too much of a coincidence. "Are they okay?"

"One didn't make it. But Hancock and three other people made it. I just saw him join Nick and MacCready to help Nora and the Minutemen."

She was done with the young women's wound. "Alright, finished. Let it sit for a day. After that, unwrap it and wrap it around with new bandages if you have any at home. Repeat that until you see that the wound is healing and isn't bleeding any more. Not one or the other."

She nodded. "I do. And thank you. I'm Jessica, by the way." She pointed at her father, the one who just explained the situation to her. "That person is my father, Joshua."

"You think you can stay here a bit longer?" Joshua asked. "I saw our medic get shot down and I'm sure there's people who need your help."

"Of course." She nodded. "Let's make sure this is over first." She pointed at the door, indicating the outside area of Concord.

One Hour Later

The group only had to wait an hour before she would hear something again. During that hour, the noise started to die down. Because it was so quiet, she heard several footsteps and voices that she could barely make out.

Kelsey pressed one side of her head against the door, still hearing some gunfire and laser fire. Once again, she scared by the door banging and with a loud gasp, she backed away from the door.

"Hey, it's Hancock! Nick, Preston, MacCready, and Nora are with me! Open up!"

Kelsey put her index finger to her mouth, indicating for everyone to stay quiet. She put one side of her head against the door again.

"Back away from the door now." She brought out Duality and turned it on with a twist, showing a bright purple glow in the fairly dark room.

She heard several footsteps, assuming that they backed away from the door, she slowly turned the knob and quickly raised Duality at Hancock.

Rightfully, Hancock backed away, not wanting to get cut by Kelsey's weapon.

As Hancock said, Nora, Preston, MacCready, and Nick were with him. She took a sigh of relief, lowered Duality away from Hancock, and lightly kicked the door open, letting everyone out of the shop.

"S-Sorry." Kelsey put Duality back on her hang bag. "Coast is clear guys."

"Thank god." One of the settlers says, getting out of the shop.

One by one, they got out of the building, returning with the rest of the settlers. The companions, Nora, and Kelsey went back in the shop to take a look at Deacon.

"Aw, look at this." He said, raising his good arm and shoulder. "Half of the gang is back together!"

Nora smiled, glad to see her friend is still in good spirits. "Glad you're still kicking it, Dee."

"Aw, Nora. You can't get rid of me that easily."

Nick asked, "How are you holding up, Deacon?"

"Well, I've been through worse. Getting shot by some military soldier with a laser weapon is not up there. They gotta do some serious changes if they want to be in my list of 'weirdest enemies to get shot at'. But thanks to my partner in crime over here," He pointed at Kelsey. "I'm feeling better than I was a couple of minutes ago."

Kelsey grabbed a chair and sat next to Deacon. "Oh boy, Deacon. I've got the weirdest news for you. About our new enemies."

Pretending to mentally prepare himself, he leaned against the chair. "Alright, Kels. Lay it on me."

"So you remember the Lone Wanderer right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And how I helped with the Enclave with the Brotherhood right?"

This time he slowly nodded. Through his sunglasses, he squinted his eyes at her. "Yyyeeeeaaah."

"Me and Nick have concluded that the Enclave may have something to do the rise of Special Forces." Kelsey said, seeing the mix of shock and confusion.

"Wait, wait, wait." He rubbed his face with his hand and adjusted his sunglasses to put them back on. "You also told me that the Brotherhood ransacked their base and destroyed it."

"Yeah. You're right. They're gone. It's a stretch, but the Enclave's influence may have something to do with Special Forces. I found an upgraded version of Autumn's laser pistol on a Special Forces earlier with Nick."

"We found that when we were at Pickman Gallery a few days ago saving Hancock and the citizens of Goodneighbor."

Deacon let out a big sigh of defeat, wide eyed behind the shades. "Well, shit. If this is the second time you ran into these guys, then I gotta let the boss know back at HQ. Can't take any chances if they are going around the Commonwealth like this."

Nick nodded. "Smart move. I should do the same with Diamond City. Mayor Moore should be in her office right now."

"I'll go with you, Dee." Nora said. "I need to check on Shaun and Codsworth first, if you don't mind."

He nodded, stood back up on his two feet, and dusted off some dirt he had on his shirt and jeans with his good hand. "Yeah, sure. I just arrived here to visit and check how you're doing. It's been a while, but I know you've been busy with the Minutemen."

"We should head back to Diamond City." Nick said. "And inform Mayor Jade about this."

"I've been wondering who was running Diamond City lately. I heard ghouls are allowed back in there again." Hancock held out the door for everyone in the shop.

"Yeah. That rule was implemented rather recently. Since January, I believe." Nick explained, recalling the night she gave an announcement to the people of Diamond City about letting Ghouls in the town.

"But not synths?" Kelsey asked.

"Aside from me, no. She's still working that out."

The group got out of the store, only to be meet with Cassidy. He still had Duncan in his arms. "General! Preston!"

Cassidy looked worried and upon closer inspection, it looked like he was holding something in one hand, while carrying Duncan on the other.

As Cassidy talked, MacCready took Duncan off of his hands and gave him a big hug.

"What's the matter, Cass?" Preston asked.

"Duncan said that a Special Forces soldier dropped this." He held one items. A dog tag, or better yet an NCR dog tag.

"This is an NCR dog tag." Cassidy said, holding it out in front of Nora and Preston.

"Wait, are you sure this is an NCR dog tag?" He asked, shocked that something was dropped among the chaos that happened in Concord. Even more so that it belonged to NCR. He had no idea how something from NCR ended all the way here to Boston.

"100% that is." Kelsey said, taking a closer look at the dog tag. "It says Daniel Contreras on it."

Kelsey couldn't help but feel that she's heard that name before. "Daniel...Daniel...Daniel..." She repeated the name over and over to see if anything rang a bell.

"You heard of that name before?" Nora asked, watching her walk off a bit from the group.

"I feel like I should have?" She questioned herself. "It's like right there..."

Kelsey would looked up in front of her, to see a crowd coming towards the group. "I'll think it over while I'll check up on everyone else."

"I'll help you." Cassidy walked right next to her. "I'm the Minutemen's medic."

"Cool. Let's get started."

Even with two medic's on board, it took almost all day to get to everyone that got hurt during the crossfire. It already took away all of her medical supplies on her end, but luckily Nora had lend her enough medical supplies that she wasn't using.

Surprisingly enough, not everyone was severely injured. Which meant that the Minutemen were doing a good job in protecting the people of Boston and Concord.

"Hey, Cassidy." Kelsey turned to Cassidy.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have the NCR dog tag?"

Cassidy threw the dog tag in her direction, seeing Kelsey catch it perfectly. "There you go. You'll probably do better with that dog tag than I do."

■ Defend and help out the people of Concord.

[tevintersnakes]

Some downtime doodles in my weekend

[psychotrenny]

I don't think "Fascist" is a very useful or accurate thing to call Caesar and his Legion (from Fallout: New Vegas) in the context of the game world itself. Like there are a lot of aesthetic similarities and basically all of their unironic real world fans are some sort of Nazi Nerd, but when talking about their place within the context of fictional post-nuclear Nevada it just doesn't work. Like Caesar's whole deal is that he's a Social Scientist who, living in a world that's been "blasted back to the Stone Age", figures that society must evolve through the same stages if it wants to properly return to modernity. The Legion is basically comprised of "Primitive Communists"* who've been forced into a Slave Society. His criticisms of the NCR boil down to them being a moribund remnant of/reversion to Old World Capitalism rather than something organically adapted to the post-Nuclear world. He repeatedly talks about how the Legion isn't meant to represent an ideal society but simply a stepping stone onto something better (the thesis that will clash with it's antithesis and evolve into a superior synthesis). His interactions with the Courier heavily imply that the Legion's Misogyny, Homophobia, Tech aversion etc. are much more tools of social organisation and control than values that Caesar personally holds. The Legion isn't just some band of mindlessly violent reactionaries but the product of very deliberate Social Engineering; a peculiarly post-nuclear sort of scientifically planned society

Now I'm not defending the Legion as a "good" choice or anything; Caesar's plan has a lot of problems, it's not hard to poke holes into and in terms of unadulterated cruelty The Legion is easily the most morally repugnant of the main factions. But the thing I really love about The Legion is how, within the specific context of Fallout's setting, it makes sense. Like once you really think about it you can understand why someone in Edward Sallow's position would arrive at these conclusions, and there are good reasons why (if you take your roleplaying seriously and don't treat the Player Character as an extension of yourself) someone living in this world might chose to side with him. The Legion may be terrible but it's not evil for the sake of evil; there's genuinely a compelling ideology behind it.

It's why I get sad when I see so many people dismiss them as the "dum dum fascist slavers" because there's so much more to them than that. Like I think the best part about The Legion is how ridiculous they first appear ("These raiders dress like Ben-Hur extras?????) but once you find out more about them then it all starts to click ("Oh I see their leader is trying to assimilate them into a distinct and alien culture in order to maintain their loyalty; severing their previous connections and giving them a whole new identity"). So it sucks to see so many people get caught up in the first part and never make enough connections to reach the second. Like in general, Fallout: New Vegas is very messy and flawed and yet it's full of all these interesting little nuances and I think that's worth appreciating it. It's why, time and time again, I keep walking down that dusty road

*in the very broad sense that Fallouts "Tribals" are meant to represent people who have reverted back to some sort of pre-state society; of course there are countless problems with how Fallout treats this matter (including but not limited to incredible amounts of racism) but in order to understand Caesar we're forced to meet the game on it's terms

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

"See, it is a boasting point: I lasted like at least ten generations of bloatflies."

Oh, she didn't actually know the exact lifecycle length of a bloatfly, did she? That made her response to his throwaway insult even funnier.

"Yeah, ten months is real impressive, swee'heart."

The Ghoul drawled back, voice thick with sarcastic amusement. From context, he could infer what the raider had probably been trying to convey - and sure, ten years in the raiding lifestyle was actually quite a feat. Most folks died, or came to their senses and switched career paths, well before then. The ones that stuck around this long and had lackeys, well. They'd usually stirred up enough chatter for him to have heard about them by now.

Maybe this one would have a name he'd recognise more than her face.

"We had a sniper. He got greedy and got his head blown off. Bloaty style."

He was actually a little surprised that she'd admit that to him. Granted, it didn't guarantee she had nobody out there covering her and her two lackeys - but after her little speech about how she was such a generous boss who invested in paying skilled people what they were worth, it was rather ironic that she'd just had to put one down for getting greedy. Clearly there had been a disagreement over how much the sniper's skills had been worth.

"Shame," he commented, with the mordant humour of someone who'd just seen all the cards in his opponent's hand and knew he could take the winning pot.

No sniper, no problem.

Another clear reaction at his pointed choice of words. Instead of bristling at his blatent button pressing, however, the raider averted her gaze. Oh, that was interesting.

"I'm in a "I wanna fuck with the Enclave today" kinda mood."

She was really keeping her manners on, wasn't she? That was sensible, even if it wasn't very sporting. The Ghoul magnanimously decided to let the subject go. After all, he had more important matters to focus on than needling this stranger for the sake of seeing her squirm. And by the look that just crossed her face, she was already off her game enough that she'd forgotten introduce herself.

"Right. I'm Coop."

The Ghoul's expression went abruptly, unsettlingly blank.

He barely registered the names of the two men as she finished off her side of introductions; a haze of static was setting in, bouncing the old nickname around in his mind, turning it over. Trying to discern whether this was some sort of sick joke. Trying to discern whether or not she knew.

There was no way she could know. She hadn't delivered it like a punchline; she hadn't paused to take in his reaction, or given any indication that she'd expected there to be one. It was just a stupid coincidence.

Then, one of the newly introduced raiders (Pat?) raised his hand and actually waved hello at him. That was nonplussing enough to pull The Ghoul back out of his head, and watch as Coop and her other buddy collectively cringed at the social faux pas.

"... he's our Brahmin, ignore him."

Ah, so he'd been right. That one was the weakest link. The one who carried the bags because he didn't shoot as good or think as fast.

If this went to shit, Pat was going to make a good meat shield.

"As for my friend, if I went around giving the names of people I work with and for, wouldn't be good publicity, would it?"

The Ghoul's eyes narrowed knowingly. So this friend was the real big fish - and probably the source of all these promised caps, given this raider was so reluctant to risk being cut out of the deal.

"Oh, I get the feelin' your friend's had plenty of publicity already," he remarked, low and shrewd. Certainly he'd put money on them being someone more familiar than these strangers.

"You, on the other hand... Maybe you oughtta hire a publicist, 'cause I've heard a marked lack o' chatter about you."

Maybe because she'd been a lackey herself for most of her career, and some big-name boss had been taking all the credit. Or maybe because she just hadn't really done shit outside of scavenge easy pickings and mug some small merchants, and that was why she'd survived so long in the first place.

"You'll hear more from me if you join us. If not, find the answers out there. You'll find me too, if you ever need caps."

For all her purported confidence in what she had to offer, this woman really did seem set on giving him an easy out. Was that big ol' minigun of hers out of bullets from her disagreement with her former sniper, or something?

The Ghoul's lips quirked.

"Well, I'll tell you what," he started, with offhanded cheer, as he stepped in close enough to clap a faux-friendly hand on Pat's shoulder.

"Y'all are some of the politest raiders to ever point a gun at me, an' I'll admit that tickles me a bit, so -"

With the deft speed of a viper, he made his move. His other hand firmly clamped down on Pat's elbow - using his newfound leverage point, The Ghoul sidestepped behind his quarry, and smoothly twisted the young raider's weapon arm up behind his back to divest him of his nice looking gun.

"- I'll take it under advisement," The Ghoul finished with that same affected equanimity, releasing Pat almost as quickly as he'd grabbed him with a patronising little pat to the head.

Nothing personal, bucko. Just how the game goes.

He retreated with his newly procured gun - how good it felt to be armed again at last - and kept it pointedly levelled at Coop, while he gauged the reaction to his little breach of niceties. Just in case she wasn't feeling so kindly any more now that he'd robbed one of her own, or so inclined to let him walk away.

"Consider this my advance, for dealin' with your Dom Pedro problem," he gave by way of simple explanation, and tipped his hat for good measure - a sardonic little thank you for what he knew he hadn't had permission to take.

And if you have any sense, you'll realise how lucky you are that this is all I'm charging you for the mistake of unleashing me for a recruitment pitch.

He'd have shot and looted the lot of them, but, well. They had technically done him a favour, and they hadn't tried to threaten or extort him yet.

If this Coop was serious about being willing to let him walk away, with the chance of future jobs still on the table and no grudges held, then he had a feeling it was probably more advantageous to not completely burn this particular bridge right now.

Either way, he was definitely about to find out who this weirdly polite old raider actually was - folks always showed their honest character when things started going wrong.

@savingthrcw

"Please. Look at me, cowboy, I'm an old raider."

Was she trying to strike up a rapport with a bit of banter? Adorable.

The Ghoul gave her a yellowed, knowing smile that didn't meet his eyes.

Oh, kiddo, you don't know what old is.

An "old" raider was a spit in the bucket compared to him; the lifestyle killed most of the trigger-happy, caps-hungry idiots who gave it a go within three years.

And given he'd never heard of this woman or her little crew, he doubted she'd been in the raiding business that long.

"Ah, now, swee'heart, that ain't much of a boasting point - 'cause most of y'all don't last longer than a bloatfly, " he quipped back lightly, the faux-friendly tone of his voice belying the very measured way he was circling closer. The two lackeys accompanying Miss Minigun looked nervous about his approach, but they seemed to be holding their nerve so far, which was a little disappointing.

He was itching for an excuse to shoot something, and that was a nice gun the twitchy lad on the left with the bags was holding.

Go on. Give me a reason. I know you want to.

Miss Minigun was continuing her pitch, either unaware or unworried by the way The Ghoul was sizing up her people; making a note of which one was the weakest link in the three-person chain, which one would make the best meat-shield and give him the advantage he needed to quickly dispatch the others, if it came down to it.

"I'm still here because I plan and I prepare. Then I overprepare. You'd be when the 'over' bit starts. Which is what lets me be so 'nice' about it."

The Ghoul turned in a slow, thoughtful circle on the spot, peering out across the wide open field of the dark graveyard, making a show of looking for the invisible backup sniper team that must be making her so confident in her preparation skills.

If she truly thought bringing just two men and a minigun was enough to ensure her safety, well, that was actually a little insulting. Not that he was going to have any complaints about a mistake if it worked in his favour, of course.

"Here's the deal. Apparently a scientist stole from the Enclave and ran with his dog."

That got his attention.

...Enclave scientist, huh? Running away with a dog?

Oh, that scientist was definitely scurrying off with some kind of highly classified military tech that folks would pay a whole mountain of caps for. He doubted the dog was the stolen property that the Enclave was so pissy about.

"The Enclave got its panties in a twist, and offered a thousand caps to bring him back. But we both know they ain't gonna give that to ya. 'Cause you are a ghoul, and people are stupid about that."

The Ghoul's lips twitched; a small ripple of acerbic amusement.

Oh, you'd be surprised.

Sure, most folks were stupid, discriminating assholes. But most folks were also pretty quick to reevaluate their priorities, when the right leverage was applied - and his practiced brand of persuasion was pretty effective at making even the most proud and stubborn fellow suddenly experience the pressing inclination to be more accommodating.

After all, he wasn't just any ghoul.

"They'll want someone in a shiny armor to do it."

Well, there was what someone wanted, and there was what they actually got. He had a feeling the Enclave wouldn't be splitting hairs over the appearance of whoever bagged their bounty, when it came down to the urgency of getting their property back intact - and keeping it out of the hands of whoever this defecting scientist was undoubtedly angling to sell it to.

"Who'll really pay a lot is a friend of mine, if I bring the scientist to them."

...Ah. So Miss Minigun knew a higher bidder, and wanted to capitalize.

It didn't really matter who got the prize, in the end. It was probably just some new kind of fancy military-grade weapon for the wasteland gangs to squabble over and kill each other with, as if that wasn't all they'd been doing for the past 200 years anyway.

"If you are with me, it's a job worth 500 caps for you alone. You are free to go and check if anyone is offering more. But... if it's true that you are as good as they say, I'll throw in an extra 200."

The Ghoul arched a hairless, pock-marked brow at her, and gave a low whistle through his teeth - a deliberately performative display of amused surprise at the upfront offer.

"Wow." He drawled out, taking his time with the word, so that it was nicely marinated in sarcasm on delivery.

"Y'all really trekked all the way out here to dig ol' me up and offer 700 caps for some help with a bag n' delivery? My, my, someone's feeling in a real kindly mood."

He enjoyed the way Miss Minigun's face had twitched when he used that particular word, so it was pure vindictive curiosity to see what happened when he poked that little button he'd discovered again. Being called kindly had clearly touched some sort of nerve - maybe because she knew he wasn't using it as a compliment, maybe for some other reason. Either way, it was a flicker of an honest reaction, a hint of her true nature beneath this show of playing nice she was serving him right now.

I bet you're not so civilised when folks don't follow your little script.

The payday for this one must be big; if she was so willing to offer such a lump sum with a bonus tacked on top up-front, without even haggling, this so-called friend of hers must've quoted a much higher price than the Enclave's set reward.

A soft-footed scientist and his dog would be easy to track down, given they'd leave two sets of tracks, and have double the need to stop at the few places that supplied safe drinking water to travellers. Outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb from the locals at settlements, so it wouldn't take many friendly memory-jogging conversations to piece together where the target was going. Somewhere he assumed he'd be out of the Enclave's long reach, presumably, which helped narrow down the options.

It sounded like a lucrative deal. Which meant there had to be some kind of nasty catch, of course.

When something sounded too good to be true, in his experience, it always was.

"Not because I'm kind-hearted, but because that's what I call an investment. Paying skilled people the right amount instead of fucking them up... usually means they'll come back to work with me later."

Yeah, there was the flash of that metaphorical leash in the little tip of her hand. So this was supposedly about more than just one job, and she considered this an investment. A way to try and hook herself a notorious ally that was now conveniently the enemy of one of her latest enemies, and keep his services on a retainer to get a leg up on her competition.

...Did this raider really think she could convince him to drop the independent autonomy of his unaffiliated freelance status, and join her motley crew, by talking all nice-like and waving a big enough bag of money?

Well. She wasn't the first to make the assumption that he could be bought, and annoyingly The Ghoul doubted that she'd be the last, either. Even though his method of declining such offers had become increasingly emphatic over the years, there was always someone who thought they could change his mind.

"So take this as an incentive not to shoot me in the back whether you wanna do it or not, I'm worth more caps alive, 'cause they can keep coming and you never know when you may need a job."

The only original spin on this particular approach was that Miss Minigun seemed to be clued into the importance of emphasising she could take no for an answer. Her explicitly expressed preference for his answer to not be delivered with a bullet indicated that, on some level, the raider knew the fine line she was walking here. That she was ballsy enough to approach and ask for his allegiance, but not entitled enough to expect and demand.

"Pitch over. I won't lie, the fact that Dom Pedro will shit his pants knowing you're out and about? Makes me feel aaaall warm and fuzzy. It's good reason to try you first."

The bare-basic show of respect was a pitifully low bar, really, but enough folks had tripped over it that The Ghoul was, admittedly, kind of entertained by the novelty. And for a moment, it even showed on his malformed face - before he felt that all-too-familiar tightness in his chest, that burning itch in his throat.

An innocuous dip of his head obscured his expression under the broad brim of his hat; he raised a fist to his mouth and managed to turn his stifled coughing fit into a rasping, sardonic chuckle.

"Y'know... I didn’t catch your name. Or the name of this well-paying friend o' yours, come to think of it."

@savingthrcw

[ms-demeanor]

Man. I'm doing research on FOSS stuff for a class and that means I've found myself a couple of old (ten years, is that really that old?) books to read and. You know. I'm not *old* but there's a definite time vertigo in the realization that young people getting into computing today likely don't remember 9/11 or the rise of the post-9/11 security state, which was a MASSIVE driver for change in privacy standards and the need for encryption. That time vertigo got EVEN WORSE when I opened up an article in this book that said "It has been more than a decade since the wall fell."

I am not really old enough to remember the fall of the Berlin Wall but I am *just* old enough to remember end-of-history discourse and when the wall was the historical frame that everyone used for discussing modernity.

Now it's pre/post-covid and it's making me curious how that framing will impact the way things are seen simply because globally there was so much more stake in it than in previous framings (not that there wasn't global *fallout* from shit like 9/11, but people saw real local responses everywhere on the planet as a result of Covid and we now have handy dandy comparisons to make between the extremely visible results of those responses).

Anyway, no matter what era of history we're in, information always wants to be free.

[seungminsbaldspot]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 3805

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings: Infidelity and Betrayal: References to an affair and its emotional fallout, Emotional Turmoil: Repeated cycles of using others for support followed by pain, Unwanted Pregnancy: Discussion of a potential pregnancy with uncertain paternity, Conflict and Blame: Arguments and blame related to the affair and its effects,Intense Conversations: Emotional discussions filled with guilt, regret, and frustration, Relationship Breakdown: Decision to take a break from a relationship due to ongoing issues, and Self-Destructive Patterns: Seeking comfort in a way that leads to more distress.

Author’s note: I think if I could give this fic a song, I think it would be 'don't speak - no doubt’

Taglist:(comment if you wanna be added) @fate-posts

Spoiler: All you get is, there will be a part 4

Click here for part four !

Click here for the previous part two!

It's been a few weeks of this cycle: you using Five whenever the loneliness and anger become too much to bear, then pushing him away, crying in the aftermath, and repeating the cycle. Each encounter is a mix of bitterness and need, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by his betrayal while simultaneously punishing him for it.

Every time, you find solace in his presence, yet the relief is fleeting. The passion you once shared has become a battleground, where your emotions clash and your pain is laid bare. Afterward, as you watch him leave, you are left with a profound sense of emptiness, the tears you shed a stark reminder of the unresolved hurt that still lingers.

Even though this cycle is far from ideal for either of you, it has provided a certain measure of relief. Diego and Lila seem to be finding their way back to happiness, and as for you and Five—well, you’re not divorced, but it's hard to say if what you share can still be called a marriage.

It’s more of a fuck-buddy system now, with you being the only one reaching out. You start to wonder if Five ever gets tired of this arrangement. A flicker of sympathy for him crosses your mind, but it quickly fades when you remember the betrayal. He cheated on you—with his brother’s wife.

A knock on your bedroom door reels your out of your thoughts.

You open the bedroom door to find Lila standing there, her expression a mix of concern and resolve. She’s dressed casually, but there’s a seriousness in her posture that catches your attention.

“Hey,” she begins, her voice tentative but steady. “I was wondering if we could talk.” You nod, stepping aside to let her in. She walks into the room, glancing around as if taking in the remnants of your own turmoil. You close the door behind her, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Lila takes a seat on the edge of your bed, her eyes meeting yours with a searching look. “I know things have been... complicated between us,” she starts, her voice gentle. “And I know that everything with Diego and Five has been tough on you. But I think it’s time we had an honest conversation.”

You sit down across from her, your mind racing with the possible reasons for her visit. Her sincerity and the weight of her words prompt you to brace yourself for what’s to come.

“First off, I want to say I’m sorry,” Lila begins, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry for allowing what happened to happen.”You throw your hand up, shaking your head in frustration. “It takes two to tango, Lila. It wasn’t just you. It wasn’t just him.”

She nods, her eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and regret. “I know, but still…” She trails off, lost in thought for a moment. After a deep breath, she looks at you with a conflicted expression. “I’m not sure if telling you this is going to be a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrow, curiosity and concern mingling in your gaze. “What do you mean? If there’s something you need to say, just say it.”

Lila hesitates, her eyes darting away, and then finally meets your gaze again. “I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, each syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken fears and uncertainties. You stare at her, your mind racing as you try to process what she’s just said. The room feels suddenly smaller, the tension could be cut with a knife .

I—” You start, but no words come out. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Are you sure?” Lila nods, her expression a mix of fear and resignation. “I’ve taken a few tests, and they’ve all been positive. I haven’t told Diego yet. I wasn’t sure how or when to bring it up.”

You run your hand through your hair, sitting in silence and shock. The room feels like it’s closing in around you. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how far along I am. And there may be a slight chance… that… Five could maybe be the father.”

The weight of her words lands heavily on you, the implications sprawling out in every direction. Your mind races through the possibilities, each one more tangled and complicated than the last.

“Five?” you repeat, trying to grasp the full extent of what she’s saying. “You think… there’s a chance this could be Five’s baby?” Lila’s eyes are filled with a mix of regret and uncertainty. “I don’t know for sure, but I dunno, with the timing of everything, It could be his.”

You sit in stunned silence, struggling to process the revelation. “This is... a lot. I mean, Five and I, we’ve been—”

“Using each other,” Lila finishes for you, her voice barely a whisper. You sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the revelation. “This—this is a lot, Lila. I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, feeling utterly defeated.

She nods, her eyes reflecting her own fear and regret. “I know... I’m sorry. I just wanted to be honest. I’m terrified of what this means for Diego and me, and for you and Five.”

You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around the enormity of what Lila just shared. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, Lila.” Your voice is steadier than you feel, masking the chaos that’s erupting inside of you.

Lila takes a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “Because you deserved to know the truth. I thought... maybe if we’re honest with each other, we can figure out what to do next.” Her voice wavers, but there's a glimmer of determination in her eyes.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “And what exactly is there to figure out, Lila? We wait. We wait for this child to grow enough to get a paternity test, and then we deal with whatever the hell happens afterwards.”

Lila flinches at the harshness of your words, her expression a mix of guilt and resolve. “I know it’s not that simple,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what else can we do? I just wanted to be honest with you, to try and make things right somehow. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “You think being honest makes up for any of this? You think it undoes the fact that you two fucked?” Your words come out sharper than you intended, the anger being unable to be contained.

Lila's face crumples, her eyes welling up with tears as she looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “No,” she admits, her voice trembling. “I know it doesn’t make up for it. I know it won’t change what happened. But I can’t keep pretending like it didn’t happen, either. I’m trying to face it, to deal with it... even if it means facing you like this.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your emotions in check. “You want to face it? Fine. But I can’t pretend this makes us friends or whatever. You broke something—something that can’t just be fixed with a sorry and some honesty.”

Lila nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know. I’m not asking for forgiveness... I’m not even sure I deserve it. I just wanted to be truthful, to at least try and do the right thing for once.”

You look at her, seeing the raw emotion in her eyes, the genuine remorse etched across her face. For a moment, your anger softens, replaced by a heavy, painful understanding. She’s just trying to figure everything out too, struggling to navigate the chaos and consequences of her actions, just like you. But it doesn’t erase the fact that she played a big part in all of this, that her choices have led to this mess that now binds all of you together.

Still, there’s a part of you that wants to hold onto the anger, to use it as a shield against the hurt and betrayal. Yet, seeing her like this, vulnerable and regretful, you can’t help but feel a flicker of empathy. Maybe she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, but neither of you deserve this situation either.

You exhale slowly, trying to push away the conflicting emotions that swirl inside you. “Look, Lila,” you say, your voice more steady now, “I get that you’re trying to do the right thing. And I get that you’re scared. Hell, I am too. But I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay because you decided to come clean.”

Lila nods again, swallowing hard. “I know,” she whispers. “I don’t expect things to be okay. I just… I need you to know the truth. I thought it was the least I could do.”

You let out another sigh, feeling the weight of her words settle over you like a heavy blanket. “Yeah…” you murmur, trailing off as the enormity of the situation sinks in. Lila takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting nervously before she speaks again. “Do you think you could... tell Five for me?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Why in the hell would I do that?” you snap, unable to hide your frustration.

Lila bites her lip, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and vulnerability. “Because I’m scared,” she admits softly. “I don’t know how he’s going to react, and I don’t think I can handle another confrontation right now.”

You stare at her in disbelief, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re scared?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. “Lila, I’m barely holding it together myself. You think I want to be the one to tell him that there’s a chance he might be the father? That’s your issue to deal with.”

She flinches at your words, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I get it, I do,” she says quietly, her voice trembling. “But I thought... maybe he’d take it better coming from you.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “That’s because I’m his wife, Lila. Or at least, I was before all this happened,” you snap. “But I’m not your messenger, and I’m certainly not going to be the one to clean up your fuck-ups.”

Lila flinches again, your words hitting her like a physical blow. Her eyes brim with fresh tears, but she blinks them back, trying to hold herself together. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I know this is my mess. I just… I thought maybe… since you know him better…”

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, your frustration reaching its peak. “Don’t you dare put this shit on me,” you snap, your voice cold and unyielding. “I didn’t cause this mess, and I’m not going to be the one to clean it up for you. You made your choices, Lila. Now you have to deal with them.”

Lila’s face crumples, her composure breaking under the weight of your words. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt Diego, and now this… I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You feel a mix of anger and pity as you look at her, sitting there so lost and broken. Part of you wants to scream at her, to make her feel the full weight of the pain she’s caused. But another part of you, a quieter, more compassionate part, recognizes her remorse and the fear in her eyes. She’s struggling, just like you are, caught in a situation that has spiraled out of control.

“Lila,” you say more calmly, though your voice still holds a steely edge, “I’m not the one who can make this right. You need to talk to Diego. You need to talk to Five. You need to deal with this. I can’t do it for you. I won’t.” She nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll… I’ll figure it out. I just… I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause, the silence between you heavy and loaded with unspoken emotions. Finally, you sigh, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “Just… be honest with them,” you say softly. “That’s all you can do now.” Lila nods, her expression a mix of determination and fear. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For listening. For… for everything.”

Without another word, she turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind her. You stand there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling a whirlwind of emotions—anger, frustration, sadness, and a tiny, flickering ember of hope. Maybe, somehow, things could start to heal. Maybe, with time, you could all find a way forward. But for now, all you can do is take it one step at a time.

A little while later, another knock breaks the silence, pulling you from the depths of your thoughts. You’ve been sitting alone in the quiet room, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You feel drained, the emotional toll of the last conversation still fresh, and the last thing you want is another confrontation.

With a weary sigh, you stand and cross the room to open the door. On the other side, Five stands there, his expression tight with worry. His eyes quickly scan you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the exhaustion etched across your face.

"Hey," he says, his voice unsteady but low. He looks you up and down again, as if searching for some clue to your state of mind. You sigh, “What hell do you want?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “Lila told me.”

You stand there, feeling the weight of his words. “She told you?” you echo, trying to keep your voice steady. Five nods, his face a mixture of concern and frustration. “Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. As he crosses the threshold, you can’t help but feel a lingering, complicated affection for him, despite everything that’s happened.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and you sit down beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and charged with unresolved tension. Five runs a hand through his hair, his eyes meeting yours with a pained expression. “I have no fucking idea what to do,” he admits, his voice heavy with frustration.

You stifle a laugh, the sound coming out more like a bitter chuckle. “Welcome to the fucking club,” you reply, your tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and resignation. The absurdity of the situation is almost too much to bear, and yet, there’s a part of you that appreciates his honesty and vulnerability.

Five’s expression softens slightly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “So what now?” he asks, his voice quieter. You chuckle again, “Who’s ‘we,’ Five? Last time I checked, it only takes two to make a baby,” you reply, your tone reflecting the harsh reality of the situation. The words hang between you.

Five looks down, clearly grappling with the weight of your words. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice heavy. “I just... What if it is mine?”

You shrug, the gesture feeling as heavy as the conversation. “Then you’d be the father,” you reply coldly. Your tone is blunt, a reflection of the emotional exhaustion you’re feeling—tired of crying, tired of being upset.

He groans, “No fucking shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do? What are we going to do?” He gestures between the two of you, his frustration clear.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your own emotions in check. “Look, Five,” you begin, your voice firm but weary, “The only thing you, Lila, and Diego can do is wait. Wait for the baby to be old enough to take a paternity test.

He sighs but nods, “Sorry for getting angry at you.” You shrug. unsure of what to say. At this point, words seem inadequate. The situation is so far beyond simple apologies and explanations. You just nod, acknowledging his apology without feeling the need to respond.

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with the weight of your shared pain. Five’s eyes linger on your face, his concern cutting through the tension. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice betraying a genuine worry despite the strained circumstances.

You almost laugh, the irony and frustration bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, I’ve been so fucking good,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since the day I learned my husband cheated on me with his brother’s wife, and now that said wife might be carrying said husband’s baby.” You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “Everything’s just perfect.”

Five's face tightens with guilt and sorrow as he processes your words. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. “I never wanted any of this to happen. I know that’s not enough, but I’m trying— Fuck, I’m trying so fucking hard to make you forgive me.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements.

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off, his voice rough and strained. “I’m trying, alright? I’m here, doing whatever fucked-up shit you need me to do. I thought maybe I could help in some way, even if it’s just by being here for you. But it feels like nothing I do is right. I don’t know how to fix this or if I even can. I’m just fucking lost.”

He pauses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of redemption or understanding. The frustration and self-loathing in his voice are palpable. You can see the weight of his guilt and regret hanging heavy on him, his attempts to fix things feeling futile and exhausting.

You look away from his intense gaze, the depth of his pain hitting you hard. “I just really fucking love you, alright?” he says, his voice cracking with raw emotion. He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek and turning your face towards him. The touch is tender, almost desperate, as if he's trying to hold on to the last remnants of what you once shared. His eyes, filled with a mix of hope and anguish, search yours for some sign that his words have made a difference.

You feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, the contact both comforting and excruciatingly painful. The depth of his plea and the sincerity in his touch make your heart ache, caught between the love you still feel and the hurt that's been inflicted. His gaze is unwavering, his desperation to mend what’s broken evident in the way he holds your face, as if afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose you completely.

You sigh, your eyes closing briefly as you gather your thoughts. Slowly, you grasp his wrist and pull it away, creating a necessary distance between you. “Five,” you begin, your voice weary but resolute, “I can’t keep doing this. This is too fucking painful.”

He looks at you, confusion and hurt mixing in his eyes. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words amidst the storm of emotions. “I think we need to take a break," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "This situation... it's too complicated, too messy. We both need time to figure things out, especially with everything that's happening with Lila." You pause, meeting Five's gaze, "I can't keep letting myself be hurt by you."

His expression shifts, a mix of shock and sadness settling in. “A break?” he repeats, his voice barely audible. You nod, your resolve firm despite the emotional weight of the moment. “Yes, a break.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

He looks at you, confusion and hurt mingling in his eyes. “We’ve never done anything like this before…” he states, his voice trailing off as he searches your face for some hint of a different solution.

You nod, unable to meet his gaze. It hurts, it hurts really fucking bad. You love this man—or loved him? You aren’t too sure anymore. You’ve been through so much together, and the thought of putting distance between you feels like a stab to the heart.

You finally look up, your voice breaking with raw emotion. “I think it’s— it’s for the best.”

You can see the pain in Five's eyes, the way his shoulders slump at your words. He takes a shaky breath, his voice cracking as he struggles to hold back tears. “If that’s what you need...” he begins, but his words trail off, unable to complete the thought. The weight of your decision hangs heavily in the air between you.

You look away, unable to bear the sight of him in such distress—the man you love - broken by your own choices. It’s a painful reminder of the betrayal that brought you to this point, and your heart aches even as you try to stay firm.

Five sighs deeply, gathering himself as he rises from the bed. He walks slowly toward the door, each step heavy with resignation. “I guess I’ll keep you updated on anything that happens with Lila and the baby,” he says, his voice a whisper, almost like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nod, the gesture feeling hollow as you wave him off. “Yeah, okay,” you reply, your tone subdued. As he exits, the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet room.