Mad Dogs and Englishmen

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who is more likely to hurt the other?

Probably Nate directly, he can be a bit insensitive at times, and can blunder well meaning into emotional minefields. Nick more indirectly, his disregard for himself is painful to watch, and it hurts Nate for than anything in this new world.

who is emotionally stronger?

They are both very emotionally strong people. I think it would depend on what pressures would be put on them. Nate can withstand pain probably better than Nick, and can hold out better against torments directed at him. However, he wouldn’t be able to hold out against attacks to the people he loves. If someone threatened to hurt Nick, Nate would crumple completely, whereas Nick would be able to hold out.

who is physically stronger?

Oh Nick, definitely. Nate is actually pretty frail, due to his problems with food. Nick is still pretty sturdy, despite his age, and after he allows Nate to do a bit of maintenance, is much stronger than most humans.

who is more likely to break a bone? 

Nate. He does his best to keep his body in the best health he can, but in the end he’s still struggling to survive on starvation rations. However much milk he managed to keep down, he’s very aware he’s one bad fall away from a lot of broken bones.

who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

Oh Atom, that would be ugly. It’s hard to say, they are both so aware of each other’s pasts that it’s quite frightening how much damage they could do. Probably Nick, if it came down to it, but there is no other way they could hurt each other so much, even if they drew guns and opened fire. It would be the biggest, most unforgivable betrayal.

who is most likely to apologise first after an argument? 

Nate, most likely. He’s more used to it since he’s pretty often making blunders. Nick is a little more reluctant, as he’s a bit less ready to admit immediate fault, but he certainly will apologise, and make more of a deal of it than Nate. 

who treats who’s wounds more often? 

Usually Nate, actually. Nate’s own injuries tend to be easier to treat, a quick bandage and a stimpack is enough, and often he’s finished treating himself by the time Nick reaches him after a fight. Nick can’t always use stimpacks though, if the damage is more than skin deep, and sometimes needs help patching up hard to reach wires and bent metal struts.

who is in constant need of comfort? 

Nate, though he certainly isn’t a slouch in returning the favor. Nate’s needs are more obvious though, since he’s pretty useless in hiding his emotions. He’s fairly easy to look after, however, and Nick is getting pretty good at pre-empting what he needs, and dealing with any flashbacks or bad nights. Nick is more private, has issues that are less flashfire than Nate’s, but slow burning and constant. And a lot of things that Nate does- giving flowers, constant praise and declarations of love and just being an endless romantic- help him in return.

who gets more jealous? 

Nate. Nick does feel jealous at times, but Nate is pretty obvious in how he feels about him and it’s very hard to feel too insecure when you’re being given posies of flowers and having your boyfriend telling you pretty much daily how much he loves you. But Nick- has more of a past than Nate, and maybe a part of why Nate wants Nick to leave his human memories behind is that he’s sick of competing with the ghost of Jenny Lands. Nick is also a bit of a flirt, and Nate has a particularly withering death glare for when that happens. Irma still hasn’t looked him in the eye since.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

It’s not really something that either of them do. Nate usually want to talk out an argument, and while Nick might shut that down if it’s just going to make things worst, he’s more likely to light up a cigarette as a pretext not to talk, and take a few minutes to sort out his thoughts and for both of them to calm down before trying to patch things up.

who will propose? 

Probably Nick, but that’ll take some time. Nate would want to, but after the trainwreck of his last wedding, he would wrestle with the conflicting urge to make that traditional gesture, or to let that last gasp of the old world to die with the rest. Nick would have to overcome his own self doubt substantially in order to do this, and then try and think of a way of proposing, and a marriage in general, that would suit them both and not feel like a farce to himself, or a re-tread of the worst time in his life for Nate.

who has the most difficult parents?

Well, Nate’s are dead, and Nick can’t even remember human Nick’s, so by default that would leave the Institute so- yes. Nick. Holy fuck.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

Nate, although Nick is becoming more and more comfortable in initiating it when they’re in friendly company (Goodneighbour, Sanctuary, or Arcadia). Nate doesn’t care and will happily take Nick’s hand (or kiss, or hug, or-) on the Prydwen. Because fuck you Brotherhood of steel.

who comes up for the other all the time? 

Not entirely sure what that mean? Both of them, probably, they’re attentive and care deeply for each other.

who hogs the blankets? 

It doesn’t really happen since Nate is the only one to need blankets, and if he’s cold, he’ll happily latch on to Nick like a limpet, since Nick basically radiates heat from his various processors.

who gets more sad? 

This can be hard since they are both prey to intense emotions, but in different ways. Nate tends to get hit by emotions as sudden and overwhelming as storms, which leave him completely prostrate, but pass in a short period of time and he can waver back to his own, rather happier self in a few hours. Nick’s are deeper, and much harder to shake. Something he carries inside him for days or even weeks. It’s the worst time, and in those times Nate wants nothing more than to reach inside Nick and pull out whatever sick, festering thing in inside Nick’s head.

who is better at cheering the other up? 

Nick. He’s very good at turning Nate’s mind away from whatever horrible thought or memory he’s caught up in, and getting him stable and on an upward keel. Nate feels utterly useless, when Nick is in a black mood. Can only try and distract him, keep him occupied with cases, and try and assure him that Nate loves him and cares for him and will always, always be there. It feels completely pointless, and Nick wishes he could tell Nate just how valuable these things are to him, and how much good it does him.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

Oh wow, if they did that they would never, ever stop. Nick is constantly making deadpan remarks or just general snark, and Nate is always ready with some weird pre-war reference or literary joke. I’d say whatever poor person is stuck with them is liable to lose it and just slab both of them silly. Piper and Cait have been driven to this more than once. Preston just looks around helplessly and wishes he were somewhere else. Dogmeat whines in embarassment. Curie tries to join in which just makes it worse.

who is more streetwise?

Nick. He’s been around more, he knows the Commonwealth. Nate is also rather more naive generally, which Nick loves, but does have to watch out for in case Nate gets caught up in something ugly like the Brotherhood of Steel Nate, really what were you thinking?

who is more wise?

Both of them, but in different ways. They are both rather thoughtful people on the whole, Nick is more practical, but Nate tends to have some very good insights as to people’s motivations and some views that Nick might not have considered.

who’s the shyest? 

Neither of them are exactly shy, but Nate is definitely more outgoing and open. Nick is personable, but usually finds himself taking a more background role, smiling as Nate chats and puts himself around enthusiastically.

who boasts about the other more? 

Nate. If you get him started He. Will. Not. Shut. Up. To the point Nick really wishes he would. Nate has a few topics he can talk about for hours, but at least he warns people first before going into a spiel about Atom. With Nick, it’ll be all ‘Nick is awesome Nick is so brave Nick is so brilliant’ for as long as it takes for whoever it is to run away. 

Nick is a bit more controlled, but when he and Nate are out together, particularly if Nate is all dolled up in is red dress and heels and maybe a bit of makeup, Nick isn’t above glancing around smugly to see if anyone is looking. My boyfriend. Mine.

who sits on who’s lap?

Nate. He will happily hop into Nick’s lap on any pretext. He loves being close to him, loves having Nick’s arms around him. The best place in the world. Nick put up a token protest to begin with, but has long since given up. Its just too good. Nate warm and happy in his arms, curling up surprisingly small. His hair in Nick’s nose, the feel of his eyelashes fluttering against the exposed wires in his neck. Perfect.

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Your Sole is now stuck in a game of spin the bottle. How do they react?

“This looks fun,” Nate sits down, smiling. “How do we play?”

He watches a few people take dares and finally it lands on him.

“Take a drink!”

“No.”

“One shot of Jet!”

“Fuck no.”

“Kiss Cait!”

Nate walks off. This was a stupid game.

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How is your Sole Survivor at a party? Do they like being around people or are they scared of crowds? Where would they spend most of their time?

Nate does like being around people, although he’s not a big fan of the sort of party where there’s loud music all the time. He’d like to stay with a large group of others, chatting, going from topic to topic with no real aim. Not being the center of attention, but just part of the larger whole. Belonging. Fitting in with the people around him to make up a happy, complete whole. 

If there is music, he’d prefer it if it wasn’t too loud, but would also take a turn or two dancing, particularly if Nick is there.

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1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid?

The pills. Admittedly it seems like CIT shelved that project after his disastrous result, but it’s still there. The fear. It lives under his skin and even now, when the pills have rotten to nothing he’s still afraid. 

2. Does your character have a deep and/or dark secret? If so, what is it?

One, but it’s a strange one. Nate saw Preston painting a picture once, of John Parker, once the Captain of the original Minutemen. He’d painted him with dark brown skin, an orbit of hair like a cloud around his head. Preston smiled and tried to hide it when he saw Nate “I didn’t know what he looked like, so I just guessed-”

“You got it right.” Nate says, with absolute certainty. “Completely right.” Preston stared, Nate smiled. “It’s perfect, Preston. This is absolutely him. We’ll put it up by the gate to Sanctuary. I’ll make a glass cover for it.”

In a strange way, this world is innocent. He’ll not have it corrupted. Let them believe Black and White related to political opinions, and drop race and sexuality and gender into oblivion.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them?

Thankfully no. Nate’s loved ones are all with him now. Maybe he lost loved ones in the war, but then he doesn’t remember.

4. Has your character ever been hurt or betrayed by someone they thought they could depend on? What happened?

By his parents. Nate was seventeen when he was arrested, his parents were called. They were given two options, either Nate would go to jail, or they could sign him up for experimental treatment for his homosexual condition. Nate’s father was very influential in the black community, couldn’t bear what jail would mean to his influence, and pushed Nate to take the pills. They were good parents, kind and supportive and loving, but Nate can’t remember them without shuddering. In the end, he’d meant less that politics to them. He has no memory of them after that final moment.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves?

Not really, no. Nate tends to deal with his own problems. Unless the person he’s just met is a raider who’s trying to kill him, and he has to turn on them in self defense.

6. Have they ever committed a crime, or something they felt was wrong? What was it?

In terms of doing something he thought was wrong, no. As for a crime, yes. Being gay. 

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why?

Prior to visiting the Institute- the director of the Institute. Post visiting the institute- the director of the Institute. After blowing up the Institute- no one really. He has no enemies and no fear of anyone.

8. Does your character have any enemies? If so, who and why?

Few that know about it. Usually the first his enemies know that he is their enemy is when Nate pulls out Apex and opens fire. Usually as their home, family, hopes and dreams goes up in flame around them. Nate has little mercy for his enemies. Luckily, it’s very, very hard to make yourself his enemy.

9. Is the character a victim of abuse?

As ever- not that he knows. His childhood was happy, he’s pretty sure of it. His marriage could have been non-stop beatings but he has only one memory of it, and that is the last morning before the bombs fells. Everything else is gone. 

10. What were the character’s parents like? What was the affect the parents had on the character?

They were kind, and loving. Nate’s memories are patchwork but he can remember his mother’s cooking, and still gets vague cravings for jambalaya. He remembers her teaching him to cook, but the recipes are gone. His father shared his banned and suppressed music. They loved him, and they still, when it all came down to it, betrayed him utterly.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms?

Nate stays with his friends, just being near them helps. It’s like the world pressing in on him is just a little further away, kept at bay. It doesn’t help when things get really bad, but it keeps away the smaller, insidious reminders and triggers.

12. Do they like to suffer? Like to see other people suffering?

Neither. Nate doesn’t like pain unless it’s in the bedroom, and takes no pleasure in others’ pain either. He’s had quite enough of pain in his life, and watching others hurt is just… sickening.

13. What does it take to make your character cry?

Helplessness. Seeing someone he loves hurt and being able to do nothing about it. Knowing people are being hurt and being able to do nothing about it. Being hurt, and being able to do nothing about it. Nate has been helpless enough.

14. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before.

Nate never had a real relationship before Nick Valentine, but the one thing that has hurt them in the past is Nate being tactless. He isn’t- wrong about things, but he puts them across so bluntly and without much attention to what others- and what the people he loves- might think, that it backfires more often than not.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Losing himself again. It doesn’t matter if it’s the pills, some new form of mind control or- whatever. Even down to taking drugs like Jet or Psycho or even alcohol. Nate gets a lot jumpier if he thinks those options are on the table, more easily triggered, more terrified, usually he tries to get away from the situation, find somewhere safe to calm down with his friends.

16. What are your character’s vices and bad habits?

Nate doesn’t have many. Sex is the main one, but between him and Nick, it rarely gets in the way of anything important. Anger is another, but that is even rarely, it takes a lot to make Nate really angry, but if that happens, he can get almost myopic in his need for revenge.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not?

Not at all. He’s seen how bad things can get, in comparison to the pills, death is fine. It’s not something he wants, and he doesn’t believe there’s anything after death, but it sounds peaceful, and at least then, nothing bad can ever happen to him again.

18. Would society call your character a good guy or a bad guy? what would they say they are?

Nate, on the whole, is a good guy. Certainly more people would consider him a force for good in the Commonwealth than bad. Nate doesn’t think about being a good or bad person, but good or bad actions. He thinks he’s weighted more towards good than bad, thus far.

19. What is your character insecure about?

He has done some terrible things. It doesn’t matter that he wasn’t in his right mind at the time, or that everyone is now long, long dead. he still did them. He’s also lost five years to that nightmare, and does feel as though he’s still trying to catch up to his own adulthood.

20.  What was something they struggled with greatly and how did they overcome it?

Nate’s main issue, day to day, is not dying. It’s not just an issue of people or creatures trying to kill him, but also of his own mind. The panic attacks are bad enough but the real drain is staying alive in a mind and body that refuses, point blank, to eat. Nate still struggles with his eating disorder, he has managed ‘cheats’ and workarounds that allow him to manage to survive, but it’s still a long, hard road to walk.

21. Does your character have anyone that they really care about, to the point that they would give their life for them? If so, who are they and what is your character’s relation to them? If not, do they wish they did? Is there anyone they wish they could build such a relationship with?

Um, quite a lot of people. Nick of course, but also Piper, Preston, Curie, Cait and Dima. Probably more. Most of them would do the same for him. Nate is very lucky, and so are they.

22. If they could change just one thing about themselves, what would it be?

Nate wants to make the whole of his pre-war life to have not happened. He just wants it to- go away. The only way that would happen would for him to secretly have been a synth since Vault 111, and since that would mean living forever, having a solid excuse to never go near the Institute and being able to write off Shaun as nothing to do with him- um, what was the downside again?

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this?

Emotionally, definitely. Nate isn’t very strong physically, he’s quite frail. Emotionally- it varies, Nate wavers between being pretty tough, to crumbling into panic depending on the situation.

24. What is your character’s most important possession? Why?

Probably his gun. Nate used to be an excellent engineer, before the war, before the pills. He lost that after the drugs, and the first time he felt he had it again was in making Apex. It was the first time Nate had made something- perfect, something that was the best it could possibly be. Apex.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them?

Very, very little. Sometimes he likes dressing up and seeing if people are checking him out, but even if they aren’t, he doesn’t feel too bothered.

26. What, in your character’s life, puts the most pressure on them?

In one way or another, Shaun. At first, it was duty, and responsibility. Shaun was a child and vulnerable, and Nate was the only one who could help him. Later, it was still Shaun, but then it was to stop him and end his terror in the commonwealth.

27.  What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion?

The pills are gone, so that fate won’t fall on Nate again. The one thing worse, however, would be to watch it happen to the people he loves. In the end, that is Nate’s worst nightmare. To be killed, and know that the people he loves- Nick, Curies, Dima, Arcadia and the Railroad, would be- oh Atom, Nate can’t even think it. The Institute. He has to destroy them, and make that end forever fantasy. The last gasp of the Old World. he won’t let it take he loved ones.

28. What is your character’s greatest strength?

His creativity and focus. Nate can look at a situation, evaluate every factor, and create an solution. He’s very good at seeing the third option to every Catch 22.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most?

Apex, his combat rifle. He can fight almost any battle with it, it makes every shot perfectly, and is quick and precise. He is pretty much useless with most melee weapon, but nothing so much as Super-sledges. He can’t even lift the fucking thing, what d‘you expect him to do.

30. What makes them feel safe or secure? What makes them feel insecure or unsafe?

Safe places, safe people. Places he knows, and where he knows he doesn’t have to worry about triggers. People he loves and feels safe with. People he can trust and rely on. 

Nate gets more and more insecure the closer the world starts to resemble the one he thought gone forever. The Brotherhood of Steel called him ‘soldier’ and he flinches. Fragments of the old world push through the ruins and go off like landmines in Nate’s mind. The Institute, a hermetically sealed time capsule, and Nate screams and screams and screams.

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May 1st: Like always, introduce your Sole! What’s their SPECIAL, their likes, dislikes, are they romanced, what faction are they in. Tell everyone a little about them!

Quick screenshot of Nate as we’re hunting Coursers.

So, this is Nate, Nathaniel Brooks. Stats are (upon creation since he’s level 104 or something atm)

Strength: 1 Perception: 7 Endurance: 1 Charisma: 3 Intelligence: 10 Agility: 7 Luck: 1

Nate Loves: Helping people, random acts of kindness, blowing up anything pre-war (military is better), synths, deathclaws, the Commonwealth in general, Atom, Nick Valentine.

Nate Hates: The Institute (oh dear Atom that could be its own post), Shaun, anything pre-war that’s in any reasonably intact state, the pre-war world period, The Brotherhood of Steel, baby mirelurks, trauma related nervous breakdowns and eating disorders.

Very much in love with Nick Valentine.

Nate is very big into helping the Railroad and the Minutemen, hoped for a while that the Brotherhood would be of help but ha, no fucking way. Shot Shaun in the gut and laughed at him as he set the Institute to blow up.

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I wanted to write a happy Nate fic, so here you go! Nate and his favourite book, in his first year in the Commonwealth.

The Month was October 

The man raised his head, two hours up, and he hadn’t even taken the pills yet, his body trembled around him, exhausted. He was a spot of stillness in the rushing mob, numbed calm in the screams.

“Run!” Her eyes burn, her mouth a red circle around the world. The boy is crying. The words run down the man’s spine to his legs, bypasses his slack, senseless brain. He runs up the hill.

She takes his arm, pulls him faster even as his legs tremble and cramp, he staggers, almost falls.

“Come on!”

The sun is bright, staining everything gold. The trees wave above them. A heartbeat.

The light, when it comes, is too much to bear. The man shuts his eyes and the skin of his eyelids turns white.

The clocks stopped at 1.17.

In the silence and dazzling glare inside his head, the memory is coughed up, fragmented, full of holes.

He opens his eyes to the cloud, a cathedral spire rising.

A long shear of light and a series of low concussions.

The frail, skeleton of self looks up in benediction. His mouth twitches upwards, weak and drawn. It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

He’s dreamed of this since he was seventeen.

A dull rose glow on the windowpane.

The lift rattles down, the shockwave roaring just past his head. She’s staring at him in confusion. “Why are you smiling?”

She’s very still as they fall together, holding the boy. Her heart to his, those dark, alien eyes staring out of Nate like black marbles out of chiffon.

Each others’ world entire.

“I’m not.” Nathaniel Brooks smiles.

 ——————————————————————————————-

The light is the first good sign. Nate raises his hand to shield off the glare, blinks and blinks watery eyes until he squints through to the blue, blue sky above. His damp skin steams as the heat of the world hits, a baked in, ancient fire. He peers through his fingers and the sun is a blazing white star high above.

The banished sun circles the Earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

The birds come next, curious crows on the hanging slackwires from the pylons, and that is a good sign. One of them arches its opalescent black wings and hops up, a flash  of dark against the brassy sky and gone.

Th names of birds.

Nate steps out uncertainly. The world around him a blasted, desertlike.

Ashen scabland. Cauterised terrain.

The ground crunches underfoot. Ants and lizards scurry for cover under the rusted hulk of vehicles, the sunken struts of a construction cabin. Nate’s body flows liquid around him, after the frozen juddering of the pills. He wanders aimlessly around, finds three rations of army rad-away in a petrified crate and it’s a moment’s work to touch them, pick them up. His mind trembles, threatens to snapback however many years.

Look around, to make sure the world is still there.

Like ancient frescos entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day.

The world is exactly the same and Nate snorts at himself. He might be mad but he’s never started seeing things. Best not start now. The crows watch him, the tiny animals rustle in brownsnap grass. The trees overhead are bare sentinels, leafless as Nate makes his slow way down the hill.

The low bushes hang with strange flowers. Nate snaps a leaf off and sniffs it, bites. His stomach roils warningly but the taste is good. Rich, fragrant. His pipboy beeps and he tastes the warning sickness of radiation at the back of his throat. He spits it out. Okay. His stomach kicks rebellion. Okay.

But it’s food, at least. He passes a strand of wild bluestained corn, looks down to a sparkling, crystalline steam and oh. Nate squats in the path and looks around. The world is half alien around him and hey, maybe he might as well be on another planet?

“Burroughs.” Nate’s voice cracks. “McCarthy.” Maybe the cold had frozen his vocal cords. “I name this world Brooktopia.” He laughs, low at his own joke.

The world is barren from pole to pole, no sign of human life for miles. Maybe anywhere.

They are gone and I am left and they have taken with them the world.

“And thank fuck for that.” Nate answers his own head. Maybe he is alone. Maybe he’ll just live here, go mad and starve to death. Okay. He can live with that.

His body is taut and easy around him, muscles and nerve fluid and quick to answer. He hops down to the stream, jumping from rock to rock like a child.

 —————————————————————————————

Nate dreamed.

Worlds rich or fearful as such might offer themselves but never one to be.

It was a good dream. No memories in it. Nate can’t remember when he’d last dreamed. Half a decade and two hundred years, probably.

He’s warm in the bed. He’d found old tarp in the truck stop, and an oil stained blanket. But the real source of the heat in the heavy, soft body slumped against his legs.

Nate opens his eyes and the first light of the newborn morning glances across the shattered window panes, paints patterns on the far wall. Ancient faded posters, screaming dead ideologies against vanished enemies.

There’s a faint warning against perverts tacked up above the ancient telephone. Another proclaiming the black menace. Nate sits up and pulls them down, tears them up and tosses the rotting paper out of the window. The dog pricks up his ears and looks at him, a low, curious whine.

“At least you’re happy to see me.” Nate strokes his ears, and Dog whines happily. Nate picks up the telephone and turns it in his hands. Wonders if it has enough power left to call up his old home, tell Codsworth what he could do with his pills.

He lifts the handset.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number of his father’s house in that long ago

Nate looks down at the rotary dial. Circles a finger over and over and finally puts it back. He has no idea what the number was. He has no idea of any number. The memories cracked and cauterised and frostbitten. Gone utterly.

“If they wanted me to remember they shouldn’t have made me forget.” He smiles at Dog, strokes his head again. Dog pants. He turns the phone over and pulls it apart, picks out the circuitboard and copper wires. Maybe they’ll find someone, him and Dog, someone who won’t want to kill them like the last few had. Maybe they could trade.

Dog pants and jumps off the bed, coming back with a haunch of the dead molerat things they’d found off last night.

Nate’s stomach growls but the castaway food around them might as well be stone when he looks at it. He shakes his head sadly at Dog and drinks water from a canister to fill his stomach, clinches his belt again, tighter than yesterday.

The holes in it marked the progress of his emaciation

The stimpacks keep off the worst of the damage, but he’s going to be a skeleton within a week. Oh well. Nate shrugs. There’s a world out there. Maybe he can find something his mind can accept as food.

Dog eats the meat happily, then jumps about, eager to be off. Nate smiles.

—————————————————————————————– 

The storm buoys up out of nowhere. “Ah hell.” Nick groans and they dash for shelter under a wooden lean-to under the trees. Barely in in time before the skies open and the rain comes in sheets.

Nate pulls out the old tarp from the Red Rocket, all those months ago, and between the two of them they throw it over the shack to keep the rain out. Dogmeat barks and runs about outside, jumping in the lake before charging back in the shaking himself vigorously over the pair of them until Nick throws a tarp over him too.

“Lovely.” Nick grumbles, flicks through his cigarette packs to find one that isn’t soaked. Selecting one, he leans over to Nate as he fumbles with a lighter in wet hands, their shoulders bumping a little more than companionably. In the gloom of the stormclouds his eyes glow gold. His lips quirk into a small, appreciative smile.

If he is not the word of God God never spoke.

Shut up. Nate snarls at the memory. Not here. Not now. Close and too far. Nick leans back against the rough earth behind them, blows out a stream of blue smoke. Nate watches the smoke, if only as an excuse to look away.

“You might want to look out.” Nick points out into the rain. “It’s worth seeing.”

Nate frowns at him, a faint smile, wondering if he’s being teased. He pulls the tarp off the grumbling Dogmeat and throws it over his head, it rattles like turretfire under the rain. It’s not a radstorm, and the sky is a simple, sullen grey, heavy and swollen with water. Nate squints and looks around. A lot of mud, the lake pocked and shimmering. The smell of dead leaves and moss. Quiet but for the falling rain. Air fresh and cool and sweet.

This is a day to shape the days upon.

“Up there-” Nick’s ventured far enough to point up, the rainwater coursing off the sleek steel of his hand.

Nate blinks rainwater off his lashes, and peers up. Through the heavy drops, the trees around them are flecked green.

He rubs his eyes, looks up at the tree above. The barren branches are opening, putting out tiny green shoots in the storm.

“Hah!” Nate half laughs, like desert plants, dry and apparently dead until the rains come, and then blooming to life.

-out of a green and leafy canopy-

Nate glances back to Nick, then looks away too quickly, in case his friend can read his mind, or maybe read the same book. But Nick is looking up with him, rain running down his face, coiling in and around his broad, purely happy smile. “Always liked the rain.”

“Yeah.” Nate breathes. He extends the tarp out and Nick ducks under it. They sit together, watching the trees bloom as the rain hammers down on and around them.

There’s a line from his book for this moment. But Nate doesn’t think it. It’s not right. Not yet. Besides, both characters died at the end.

 ————————————————————————————————-

“And we’re looking for what in here?”

“Not really sure?” Nate shrugs. His cheek hurts from the brand and he feels- strange, fey. The world runs under his skin and he feels alive. As though everything he thought could just leap to life around him.

Which would be a nightmare, in any other world, but right now, all Nate feels is wonder.

The little tunnel they’re in is low and narrow, forcing both of them to bend double as they buckle down into the bowls of Far Harbor. “Don’t you just want to look?”

Nick snorts, runs a hand over Nate’s shoulder. Rests it there, in the crook of his neck. It’s the work of a heartbeat for Nate to lean over and press a kiss to those metal knuckles. Nick smiles.

“I read a book once,” Nate continues. “Where the two characters went into a cave. There was an animal down there. You could see through its skin.”

“What sort of animal?” Nick ducks under trailing roots.

“They didn’t say. Always imagined it a bit like a Deathclaw, only on all fours.”

“Hope we don’t run into one here.” They turn a corner. “What happened next?”

“Um- they woke up. It was a dream.”

“Not a great ending.”

“It wasn’t the ending. Came right at the beginning, I think.”

“Ah. Good book?”

“My favorite,” Nate tells him the title.

“Catchy. I’ll keep an eye out for it.” Nick smiles.

Nate can only smile back, turning his back to the tunnel for a moment.

Unfortunately while there weren’t any Deathclaws in the tunnel, there were a large number of feral ghouls. They had to put a temporary end to book week.

 ———————————————————————————-

“Do you know your birthday?” And maybe Nate’s too used to how things work for them, because that seems the best way of asking that question.

the names of things slowly following those things into oblivion

He rests his hands on his bag and reaches into his mind, tries to parse out the beggarly collection of memories, trace comparisons to holidays, to weather, to cold or summer. Finally, he shrugs. “No idea.” Slip away through his fingers and gone. He smiles sadly at Nick. “You?”

Nick shakes his head. “I use April 14th. He sits down beside Nate, on his haunches. “Day I- we-” he stumbles a little over the words, still uncertain, “escaped the institute.”

Nate nods, “Yeah.” His lip curls. Escape. Flee away into the dark and away from the light. Nate looks around at the dusty road, the nodding trees, their leaves shriveling quickly and falling after the rain.

nothing in his memory anywhere of anything so good

“I guess mine’s October 23rd then.”

Nick nudges him in his ribs and Nate rolls with the blow, catching Nick’s coat in both hands and pulling him down, down to the the dust and steaming sunlight and the hubflowers nodding over them.

His hands finding Nick’s body, taut and still and warm with living processes. Nick’s mouth warm and dry and sweet.

Each others’ world entire.

 ————————————————————————————

Nate laughs when the pass through the Outskirts into the Glowing Sea. He looks around at the trees and those are definitely dead. Nick gives him a slightly concerned look, but then this isn’t Nate’s usual breakdown warnings.

“Nah, just-” Nate waves at the vista. “All the books I read-”

“Doesn’t compare?”

“You kidding? This is the first bit that’s come close.” Nate pops a rad-x. It’s not so bad this far out, but he’s glad they packed a hazmat suit for later.

The wind warns of a coming storm and he revises that opinion. A pity. He’s hated that thing since Far Harbor. Better to feel the wind on your face, the storm on your skin. Not for the first time, Nate envies the growing number of people born immune to radiation.

The wind catches in a rotten, century old branch and the cauterised wood cracks, making them both jump. Nate snorts. “All the trees in the world are gonna fall sooner or later.”

“That’s a quote?”

“From that author I like.”

“Sounds the cheerful sort.”

Nate grins. “Yeah.”

He bends down to the first pool they find. Flecked gold and shimmering, oilslick gilt. Drinks down a mouthful and hears the giger counter scream. Atom. Your blessing. Your world. Thank you.

 ——————————————————————————–

“Happy birthday.” Nick’s hands cast over his shoulders. The bones of his shoulderblades, collarbones still stark against his umber skin, redcast from his dress.

“Huh,” Nate glances at his pip-boy. 23rd October 2288. One year out of the vault. One year and two hundred and eleven since the nightmare ended. “So it is.” He turns in Nick’s arms. “Atom’s too.”

“Give Him my best.” Nate snorts, and gasps as Nick gently nips at his throat, the tender skin at the joint of neck and shoulder. “This is your day.”

“Hmm,” Nate smiles, relaxes in Nick’s arms, hooked around his waist. Nate rests his own hands on Nick’s shoulder. Watches him. That smile, oh, he’d first fallen in love with that smile. Those eyes, and brilliant, too-large soul that radiates from every part of him. Oh, thank you. Thank you. He will never thank the Institute for anything, so he raises that praise to Atom. “Do I get a present?” He leans in to snatch a fresh kiss, and perhaps begin said present forthwith.

The kiss comes, so warm. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

Nate pauses, honestly, he has no real idea what he would want. He has everything he wants. Most of it is in his arms. But Nick smiles, and lets go of him with one hand to pulls something out of his pack. It’s flat, and small, and wrapped in soft black cloth.

“A book!” Nate smiles. And not just a book, the cloth around it is silk, long and wound over and over. There are definitely possibilities with this silk. Oh yes.

But then Nate pulls the sweet silk off and- oh.

“Found it in the old Somerville place.” Nick strokes his back. “Decided to save it for today. Is it the same one you liked?”

“Yes.” Nate breathes. Jet black cover. White printed words. He runs his thumb over the pages and loses his breath all over again. “Nick, this is- a first imprint. Look at the way the pages are cut- handcut. This is- three hundred years old or something-”

He gets another kiss and laughs helplessly against Nick’s mouth. Atom, oh Atom how the hell is he this lucky, his arm full with his boyfriend and a silk scarf and this book. An embarrassment of riches.

“I had a flick through.” Nick shakes his head, half laughs. “Nate, what the hell? Have you read this thing?”

“Repeatedly.” Nate grins, “Or- I probably did. I basically memorised it. Don’t remember actually reading it though.”

“And you like this?”

“Love it.” Nate kisses him again, a brief flash of pure happiness. “Always makes me smile when I read it.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “The world ends- and that’s not enough and you’re got to read about it too. Makes perfect sense.”

“Yep.” Nate draws out the ‘p’, smugly.

“Got it all right, did he?”

Nate barks a laugh. He looks around their little home in Sanctuary, the stacks of books, the broad, warm bed, the chair and couch tucked away. And outside, the waving strands of razorgrain and scattered planters dripping with fruit. Brahmin cropping up dry grasses. Fish from the local river. The water running clear, the flowers nodding around the small town, the sky so achingly blue.

“Not a fucking thing.” He grins, then pauses a moment. Nick blinks, curiously. Nate puts the book down, and cups Nick’s face in both of his hand. “Well, maybe one thing.” He admits.

He leans in. Nick kisses back, gentle, oh, so sweet.

“My world entire.” Nate smiles, and kisses him again, and again.

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titconao3:

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nurselofwyr:

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nurselofwyr:

impulsiveingenue:

watsons-solarpunk:

nurselofwyr:

I had an interesting series of thoughts at work today.I started off thinking of a solarpunk zombie apocalypse story - society has collapsed, survivours rebuild from the ashes with solarpunk tech and the like while dealing with zombies, marauders, bandits and other threats. I was enjoying the idea until I realised something:

The post apocalypse genre is inherently ableist.

How often do you see disabled people in post apocalypse fiction anyway? Not very - off the top of my head I can think of Eli from The Book of Eli, Tomonaga Ijiro and Joe Muhammad from World War Z (the book) and Davis, Jodie and Jennifer from Dead State. Everyone else, able-bodied and neurotypical, with nary a chronic illness in sight - anyone who isn’t 100% mentally and physically “normal” is left behind or dragged along with reluctance and openly considered “dead weight,” with no consideration given to that person’s skillset or other qualities they might have that could come in handy. Even people with PTSD - a perfectly understandable thing to have after the apocalypse - are often looked down on as being “weak” or “unable to handle it” and are rarely given any decent help or support from those around them.

The entire genre feels like it’s designed with this ableistic outlook in mind and while I acknowledge there is limited realism to it - a lot of people with chronic illnesses or disabilities do need support to work at their best ability, and most post apocalypse settings won’t have anything like this in place which will put many of them at risk - that doesn’t mean we have to drag it all along in our stories with no questioning of why. Just because some may not make it through doesn’t mean every single person who has a condition that isn’t 100% curable is going to vanish with them.

We can do better than stories that tell disabled people that they’ll be better off dead so they don’t drag everyone else down; that tell people with chronic illnesses that they are worthless; that tell people with mental illnesses that they are a drain on resources; that tell the neuroatypical that they are nothing more than liabilities. Even people that stay behind to care for their loved ones who have such a condition are seen as noble but naive and generally condemned by the narrative as unfit to survive unless they leave the person “holding them back.”

Given that (in my opinion) post apocalypse stories are about how we’d like to rebuild society if we had to start over, the fact that disabled and neuroatypical representation is so rare in the stories across this genre says so much about society, and none of it positive. Neuroatypical and non-able bodied people aren’t all magically going to go away just because society has, and their absence in your story just says more about your attitude than about any “harsh realities” of the setting you’ve created.

This is such a great observation, and I definitely think a big part of the appeal of post-apocalyptic fiction for a certain kind of reader and writer is that you get to wipe out huge swaths of human complexity with “They all just die but it’s not eugenics because the zombies did it.”

But I don’t think it has to be that way, and I think a solarpunk approach could be a great way to bring that out. It would be harder to write, sure, because if the nature of a setting is to say “any shortcoming is a justification for letting someone die,” then it’s got to be a much bigger deal to the protagonists to resist that kind of thinking.

But that also makes it a great kind of story to showcase exactly the kind of values it’s often used to condemn: to show a group retrofitting their friend’s wheelchair with a solar powered motor and all-terrain wheels, or using precious power and backpack space to keep a supply of insulin refrigerated, or all learning sign language to accommodate their deaf teammate. 

You could show people not failing because they chose compassion over pragmatism — maybe even succeeding because of it. All three of those accommodations have advantages, too: the group member with a powered wheelchair can probably carry more than other group members,* if you’re hauling a fridge you can refrigerate more than just insulin, and sign language is a valuable silent form of communication if you’re in a world filled with hostile zombies.

The important thing is to show groups choosing to stick up for their disabled or neurodivergent** members and not be punished for it. Those group members don’t need to ultimately be the climactic key to success — in fact, that’d probably be a problematic way to take it, because it would end up re-emphasizing the idea that their value comes from their ability to be useful.

But showing them as fully realized contributing characters in the story, whose teammates care about and support them (and vice versa), and showing them all make it out alive, flies in opposition to the ableist nature of apocalyptic fiction.

Of course, fiction where the world as it exists doesn’t have to end for things to start to get better is also important. But I can see a lot of value in post-apocalyptic fiction that isn’t a thinly veiled excuse to start gleefully describing the tragic deaths of everybody not optimally equipped to serve the new libertarian/military grim utopia.

* I’m not actually sure about this point — if anyone reading has personal experience with the physics and practical concerns of using a wheelchair re: carrying capacity, and wants to correct me, please do.

** I know I don’t actually have any examples of neurodivergence in the post. I’m gonna keep thinking about that aspect of this but I don’t have anything atm.

This is all spot-on and speaks to an understanding of the genre I’ve developed, having formerly been part of the problem. 

I used to be really into post-apocalyptic fiction, especially zombie-apocalypse settings. I actually had discussions with one of my coworkers about the suitability of our workplace for survival during such an event (conclusion: too many windows, we were probably screwed). From the perspective of where I was in my life at the time, it seemed like a good bit of fun and, hey, if it did happen, at least I’d be ready, right? 

Then I became medication-dependent. Now, when I thought about the logistics of survival in a post-apocalyptic situation, I had to consider where the hell I would be getting my anti-androgens and estrogen from. I didn’t think about it before, even though I knew I was trans, because I didn’t realize how fundamentally I needed to be on the right hormones. These meds doesn’t exactly grow on trees, and I’d hardly be the only trans woman who needs the stuff and, well… suddenly it’s not as fun as it used to be. 

Moving from one category to the other really soured me on the genre. I still watch it, read it, hell, I even write it, but it doesn’t have the same appeal to me that it used to. I think that’s the problem, really. Cisgender, able-bodied, neurotypical people don’t think about this sort of thing because it doesn’t affect them personally, just like I didn’t think about it when I didn’t think it affected me. To them, survival is a bootstraps thing — if you’re HARD and MAN enough (but not TOO MAN, as Walking Dead’s perfectly shaven ladies helpfully illustrate), you are rewarded with continued life. At least, until the writers decide there’s too many black men on the show and whoops, time for one to get bitten. If you’re not HARD or MAN enough? Well, that’s your own problem! 

If we could get post-apocalyptic media to a less relentlessly heteromasculist and individualist place, I think that would improve things immeasurably. Right now it basically exists to soothe the fears of men that they are not, in fact, HARD or MAN enough, and if the world would just give them the chance they could prove it. I don’t think this is the cause of the ablism in the genre, but it sure feeds into it. 

All this to say that an inclusive community-oriented solarpunk post-apocalyptic setting sounds amazing and I would read the hell out of it. 

Self-reblogging to add that there’s an anthology about this very subject!

“Defying Doomsday is an anthology of apocalypse fiction featuring
disabled and chronically ill protagonists, proving it’s not always the
“fittest” who survive – it’s the most tenacious, stubborn, enduring and
innovative characters who have the best chance of adapting when
everything is lost.

In stories of fear, hope and survival, this anthology gives new
perspectives on the end of the world, from authors Corinne Duyvis, Janet
Edwards, Seanan McGuire, Tansy Rayner Roberts, Stephanie Gunn, Elinor
Caiman Sands, Rivqa Rafael, Bogi Takács, John Chu, Maree Kimberley,
Octavia Cade, Lauren E Mitchell, Thoraiya Dyer, Samantha Rich, and K L
Evangelista.”

It’s going to be out on the 30th of May (two days from now) and you can get it from Twelfth Planet Press or Amazon.

I feel like there’s also some people-are-wrong-about-history ableism feeding into it too. The assumption often seems to be that the apocalypse (whatever it is) will revert us to a subsistence level of existence, and Paleolithic humans and other early human groups are often invoked to justify the idea that you can’t support disabled people in a subsistence level economy. The common belief is that Paleolitic people practiced a harsh form of eugenics towards the disabled/‘useless’, after all.

What that line of thought is ignorant of is the substantive evidence suggesting that Paleolithic people cared for and supported disabled tribe members, to a far more substantive degree than later ancient/medieval societies. 

If the apocalypse does bring us back to Paleolithic-style subsistence that is no reason to assume that survivors will have to abandon the disabled to thrive. In fact, precedent supports the opposite.

@siriustachi provided plenty of evidence supporting the fact that our neolithic ancestors cared for the disabled in a different thread also talking about the same topic.

Self-reblog to add in some useful commentary from @octopocalyptic from a different branch of this thread that discussed Mad Max: Fury Road:

Academic nerd out warning: For anyone interested, there’s some really
interesting writing in post apocalyptic literary criticism that looks
at ableist discourse and narratives. Karen Renner talks about how it’s a
fairly recent trend to focus on the physical aspects of the end of the
world. (Earlier work was often more about social changes after an
apocalypse.). So she writes, “Notice, for example, that among the prime
qualities that survivors of contemporary apocalyptic films
consistently exhibit are superior physical stamina and dexterity .  .
.  Today’s apocalyptic narratives, especially cinematic ones, are far
more interested in the physical battles faced by the protagonists”
(205). Specifically masculine protagonists, too, I think…

She
connects this with a general desire for a dif. kind of society, “one in
which the average person who puts aside shallow and self-interested
impulses is recognized as the true hero of the world” (210). But looking
at post apocalyptic stories, the desire is for a society in which
strong, able-bodied, often stony-eyed white dudes can punch Bad Guys (or
Bad Animals or Bad Tidal Waves) either w.out guilt or with that weird
guilt of someone who’s willing to get their hands dirty when others
aren’t. For a genre all about re-forming the world it’s actually really conservative.
That’s why I got so excited about solarpunk’s inclusive futures when I
found out that it was a thing, and why I can’t wait to see Mad Mad: FR.

Anyway, tl; dr– Post apocalyptic lit. crit. is cool and talks about this kind of thing.

Citation: Renner, Karen J. “The Appeal of the Apocalypse.” Lit: Literature Interpretation Theory 23:203–211, 2012.

Reblogging this because my husband made the OP and I amde one of the stories in Defying Doomsday.

I could really use a MUCH more disabled and neurodivergent friendly post-apocalyptic fiction. I grew up believing that I had no place in any adventure that had to involve the wilderness (because my batteries for my cochlear implants would eventually run out, leaving me totally deaf) or desert (because I need water so much that I would tell my teammates to shoot me first to conserve the water for them.)

Then I got my chronic illness which has progressed to being quite severe, and I have become thoroughly bitterly resigned to being the “first one to die” in such a scenario. To the point I jokingly comment how if there was a big explosion (from nuclear bomb, missile, asteroid, comet, supervolcano, alien attack, whatever) that I’ll take the “Come to Jesus!” pose (mimicking the spread-eagle position of Jesus on the cross) and just accept my inevitable and hopefully quick death. And that all the discussions of such a post-apocalyptic world described sounded so horrible I’d rather shoot myself than endure any sort of life in those conditions.

….Never mind the fact that I have so much to contribute to such a community-focused actual case of post-apocalypse. Look at how people band together to survive any huge tragedy in their area, and they pull through together and try to leave no one behind. The miners trapped in the cave-in in Chile could’ve had more food for themselves if they left the others to die. But NOPE. The first miners brought out of the mine actually tearfully refused to leave the area until EVERYBODY got out, so engrossed they were in ensuring EVERYBODY’S survival. The most hurt were sent out first, mind you.

This is what the human species does to survive such terrible scenarios. We don’t all become antisocial and violent as fuck loners that beat up every living thing in sight. We band together so tight that a threat to one of our members is a threat to us all, no matter who the member is, and our motto might as well become “survival of all or none.”

Keep reading

<3@irisbleufic this might be of interest to you?

After playing a whole bunch of Fallout protagonists who were pretty much loners, it’s been a lot of fun to play Nate in 4. I RP him as autistic and with PTSD, and he really can’t go it alone. He fixates so much on one thing that it’s very easy, when he’s sniping, for someone to come up behind him and shoot him. He also really needs someone with him if he ends up in a meltdown, if only to shoot the things attracted by the noise he’s making. He’s also got an eating disorder so is pretty frail, so extra help lugging shit around the wasteland is appreciated.

It’s been SO MUCH MORE FUN working with the game to write Nate’s story because unlike my other protagonists, Nate NEEDS a connection to the world. He has to make friendships and support and become part of the larger world. Purely in terms of character development and worldbuilding, having characters who aren’t Stoic McStoic is a lot more rewarding.

It might be just a video game, but Fallout 4 has finally beaten out Mass Effect 2 in terms of the most fun I’ve had in a game, and it’s 100% because of Nate Brooks.

Okay, Nate Brooks and Nick Valentine.

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Remember what I said about being so focused on one thing he forgets everything else? Yeah. Really, really bad for mines. Nate has some rather rough scarring on his shins from where he set way too many of the things off, before he worked out how to disarm them and, a little later, how to move lightly enough not to set them off.

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Sole Survivor Ask Meme

What is their name? Do they go by the same name they did pre-war? Nate Brooks. He used to be called Nathaniel more often, but now the only people he allows to call him by that are the Children of Atom. He’s ‘Brother Nathaniel’ in the Nucleus. He’s Fixer with the Railroad, General to the Minutemen, and a whole host of new names to Nick.

What was their relationship like with their spouse? Nate honestly has no idea. The memories have all been fried. He wonders if Nora was a childhood friend who married him to look after him, a romance minded nurse who took to him on his many, many trips to hospital, or an opportunistic stranger looking for the security of a military spouse. But she raped him. He knows that much. Shaun must have come from somewhere and he couldn’t have consented to a cup of coffee in that state.

What are other people likely to notice about them first? I suppose it depends on the person. probably tied between his rather unusual, yellowish eyes, or holy shit that guy’s skinny.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Pretty extroverted, he likes being around people.

Describe their voice Quite soft, low. Can rise higher and shriller when he’s louder.

Describe their most fond pre-war memory Nate would say he hasn’t got any and just look at you. He does have some though, the one Christmas he can remember, libraries, that first half of the night he spent in that Boston Queer club. Unfortnately, the knowledge of what happened after kinda- ruins these memories.

Describe their smile He has a few, a warm one for those he loves. A smirk, and a nasty, sharp toothed one that looks like something a Deathclaw might have after you winged it. This hurts and I’m gonna make you pay for it. He wore that smile every single fucking time he went to the Institute. And they did. In spades.

Describe their general appearance, post a screenshot or draw them Nate is tall, six foot-ish. He looks taller since he’s really concerningly thin. Narrow face and nose, full lips, large hazel-amber eyes. His skin is warm, deep mahogony. About the only thin Nate doesn’t like about himself is his hair, it’s red-black, and is just white enough not to dread or afro, and just black enough to pull free of anything else he tries to do with it. He keeps it cut short, and wears a lot of hats.

What were their hobbies pre-war? Nate isn’t even sure. Which is fucking depressing. He liked reading, and his father had a whole basement of banned and ‘subversive music’. Nate remembers the plots of the books, and the music, but can’t remember where he read or listened to them.

What is their weapon of choice? Nate has two guns, a combat rifle which he uses most of the time, and a laser sniper rifle for distance.

Do they get attached to their weapons sentimentally, give them names etc? Oh goodness yes. Nate loves his guns. The combat rifle is called Apex, and sniper Riptide. He’s very proud of the names. 

What is their sexual orientation? Gay as a very gay thing. Homosexual, Homoromantic.

What kind of situations are they likely to avoid? Anything that comes to close to the ‘old world’. It’s like walking through a trauma minefield. In the Institute he ducked into a storeroom, stuffed the end of his coat into his mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed.

Do they have any fears or phobias? Colossal, screaming breakdown for being inside power armor/using a minigun. Everything else tends to according to situation or his ability to handle, but these are regular triggers. Worse, with so much of his memory gone, Nate doesn’t always know what’s going to affect him.

Describe their morality. Is it black & white or are there grey areas? Usually black and white, but there are times (notably Far Harbor) wherein Nate is just entirely lost and goes with his gut and/or is just plain selfish. DiMA lived. He shot Pickman. Shaun died screaming.

Which faction/group(s) are they affiliated with, and why? Railroad and Minutemen. Nate wants to help people, and to him, people include ghouls, synths, and sane supermutants if they want.

Which faction/group(s) do they dislike, and why? Well, the Institute, on the whole ‘you tortured and enslaved my boyfriends and half my friends’ basis, but he has a rather savage hate for the Brotherhood too. He believed them. He really thought they would make the Commonwealth a better place. Turns out they were as cruel and brutal as any raider, just with more firepower. Poetically, they went down in flames.

Did they find romance in the commonwealth? Who are they with? Nick Valentine. Nate ran into him after only a few weeks out of the Vault, and fell in love like a ton of bricks only a week or so later. 

What do they love the most about their romantic partner(s)?  When Nick was telling him about how he became a detective, the way he smiled when he told Nate it took him mouths to start charging anyone. Nate just thought ‘I have found the most perfect person on the face of the world and I am so in love.’ The idealization didn’t last too long, but the love did. He is very happy. He still thinks Nick is the best person in the Commonwealth, if not the world.

Do they suffer from any mental health issues? Yes. He has pretty bad PTSD, mostly manifesting in flashbacks and panic attacks, he’s probably somewhere on the autistic spectrum, although not diagnosed, and a subconscious eating disorder that makes him throw up or just be unable to swallow food.

Do they partake in anything that could be considered escapism? Reading mostly. He hates drugs and doesn’t drink. He and Nick collect books, Nate likes science fiction, and, weirdly, post-apocalyptic novels.

Do they have any memories that make them physically cringe with embarrassment? Nate still feels shit about joining the Brotherhood. Nick told him again and again, tried to warn him about them, but Nate had been so blinded by the tech and gleaming power armour and- yeah. He was a fucking moron.

Describe their butt. You heard me. Pretty skinny, bony, he doesn’t sit down much.

What are their insecurities? He’s a man out of time, he’s completely fucked in the head, and he’s 22 and has never had a proper consensual sexual experience (before Nick). 

What boosts their confidence? Helping people, shooting assholes, dressed up in a nice red dress, putting on a bit of makeup and feeling sexy.

What makes them angry? Privileged cruelty. Raiders are one thing, but at least they’re kicking rocks with the rest of us. The Institute? The Brotherhood? They are armed, safe, and swan around, killing and taking and not even calling it raiding.

Do they cry easily? What’s likely to set off the waterworks? Sometimes, emotional overload mostly, he tries to hide it, and at least behind his gasmask no one can see tears.

How do they cheer themselves up, or how would other characters cheer them up? He tries to be around others, even if it’s just playing fetch with Dogmeat. Maybe build things, but he feel better around others. Nick and Piper have picked up on this, and stay with him, talk to him while they do their own things. It helps so much.

What do they miss the most about pre-war life? “Nothing.” Nate crosses his arms, scowls. It’s a lie. There are things, but even thinking it seems- traitorous, to the person he was. He admits, if only to Nick, that he misses the libraries.

Who is their bff post-war? Piper. They are both awkward, jittery people who are determined to do the right thing. And of course Nick, but that goes without saying.

Has the post-war commonwealth changed them physically? Nate lost weight at a terrifying rate in those first few weeks, then put a bit back on after Far Harbor, he has a few more scars, and the dark brand of Atom on his cheek.

Has the post-war commonwealth changed them mentally? Nate isn’t sure. He doesn’t know who he was before. No one he wanted to know. He’s happy now, was happy the moment he can out of the vault, saw birds and thought ‘huh, maybe it’ll be okay after all’. It was.

How do they react to being humiliated, intentionally or otherwise? Depends on what. Almost anything and Nate would just brush it off, or even laugh if he agrees he was ridiculous. He doesn’t take too well to being mocked for his appearance if he put time in dressing up, and really takes badly, flashback badly, to being mocked for his engineering work.

Do they/did they dance? Describe their funky moves. Nate loves to dance. So does Nick. One night, at the Third Rail, they had a slow dance together to Magnolia’s singing. Then Magnolia stepped down for a drink, and a new song came on. No one here but us chickens. Nate pulled Nick into a few fast Swing Steps and Nick, went along, perfectly. There was a moment they just looked at each other- you dance? You too? Then they went flat out and absolutely tore up the dance floor before rolling back to the Rexford just before dawn. It was one of the best nights of Nate’s life.

How do they feel about ghouls? Ghouls are people. End of. Feral ghouls? Well, humans snap and go Raider, so they can’t talk.

How do they feel about synths? Synths are people. The first synth Nate met was Nick and it’s rather coloured his impressions. He finds 2nd gen synths scary since they look like and unlike Nick.

They’re in a bar fight. Did they start the fight, are they getting beaten on, or are they trying to break it up? Didn’t start it per say, but probably threw the first punch after a line like- ‘synth fucker’.

What ’S.P.E.C.I.A.L’ stats do they value/embody? Intelligence and Agility. Mind and hands.

When the going gets tough, your sole survivor…. Blows their head off.

Who do they think is indisputably the most important person in Vault 101: He who shelters us from the harshness of the atomic wasteland, and to whom we owe everything we have, including our lives? Atom? Nate is bewildered by this question.

via http://ift.tt/2mtfz38:
In which I inevitably drag in Pacific Rim references.

Whaddya mean Dangerous Minds was not totally a three way Drift?

Tryptych

In which Nick and Nate deal with the aftermath of Dangerous Minds, and I explore why pre-war’s The Eternal 50s would really, really really suck to live in.