tagged by @adelaidedrubman for the uquiz, untagged for the oc meme and i don't even remember who i got it from. it's been A Past Two Weeks.
(L-R unapplicable, Rosalyn Ashford (Skyrim), Samantha Toren (SCP, Outer Worlds), Roz Ashford (Fallout New Vegas). Isadora-Marie Toren DeSoto (Outer Worlds), Josephine Mendoza Ashford (Saints Row, Far Cry), Fauna Lamb-Seed (Far Cry), Hannah Lamb, PhD (Far Cry), Suze Ashford (Saints Row, Far Cry), Zoe Ashford (Oblivion), Sparrow Black (Fable 3), David Grahan (Fallout New Vegas)
Quizzes under the cut
Love as a Choice
You choose to love. Love does not come to you easily, but every day you wake up and choose it. It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to grow cold and callous and grim. But you rise to greet the world, making the conscious effort to find something, anything to love. When you fall for someone, you do not kid yourself of their flaws. Instead, you resolve to see them for who they are, mistakes and all and you love them all the same. Your love is work, and it does not come easy. Your love sweats and toils. It is calloused and sunburned; it bears scars and comes with stories. Your love is worn, but it is no less valuable for it. Being loved by you is like being loved by a gardener, a mother, a teacher. Your love may not always be the simplest, but it is worth the effort.
Love as a Threshold
Your love does not ask for much. Your love does not take. Your love is free, and unquestioned, and here for wherever needs it. When you fall in love, it is as gentle as a breath in the night. It is quiet, and it is effortless. It is tender. If your love was a house, it would readily welcome all who come through. If your love was a hearth, it would warm the hands of whoever stopped by, whether for a day, a month, a year, or forever. When you fall for someone, it is without strings, without conditions, without need. You love for the sake of loving, for the sake of caring for those who need it. You love with a giver’s heart and a giver’s hands and are made so much stronger for it. Being loved by you is to always feel at home. Your love may not always be well-received by those unprepared to linger, but it is unforgettable all the same.
Love as a Flaw
Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.
Love as Religion
Devotion, that is the name of your love. Your love is an act of worship. Your love is like witnessing the birth of Venus, like seeing the sun come alive, or the stars fall. When you love, it is because you have found God in a lover. You have found the meaning of life itself in the heart of the one you adore. They are everything to you; they are your Maker, and you are their lamb, their flock, their first and holiest worshipper. When you fall in love, it is as a baptism. You are born anew, made a believer in the divinity of the one you love most. Being loved by you is an ascension; it is holy and golden. It is all-consuming, and all-faithful, loyal as the dog. You will never, ever bite back.
"Of course the shrink is your soulmate," Jacob laughed, which in Hannah’s concussed state sounded more like a bark, "Talk about signs from god."
“Yes, yes, celebrations. How is this working with the Reaping? She’ll need to be cleansed, we need to properly introduce her- of all the times to find your soulmate it had to be tonight?”
From Hannah's proper timeline:
"So. This settles Jacob's debt to us. He has lost things he will miss, just like my friends. He will never be himself again, just like everyone else he's brainwashed. And I will leave him alive, because death settles nothing. And Joseph, while I truly wish I could see your face when you get here, I have other business to finish up. So remember that this is what happens when you fuck with my people." Suze reached over and picked the camera up, there was a brief shot of the room, the bloodied tools, the cases of nails for the nail gun.
and from way later in Roz's timeline:
“Ulysses, I….” She held his face in her hands, and sighed, “I love you, okay? I come here to see you because I love you. I ask you to come back with me because I love you, and the thought that this might be the last time I see you is making me sick.” There was no point fighting the tears, he'd seen her in all states. “I meant everything I said. I know you think I was rambling, but I meant every word of it. It's not home. Not without you.” She dropped her hands to rest on his shoulders, “I don't feel crazy when I'm with you. I'm not afraid of being sick when I'm with you. I know I'll die if I stay here, but it's going to kill me to leave.”
Roz sits against the headboard of their bed, legs stretched out, still in her pajamas. It's a cool, rainy day, and there's no reason to put real pants on when her daughters will just demand to snuggle under the covers with her and listen to their father's stories.
Their youngest, Sierra, 3 and a half, is dozing in her arms. Roz herself might take a nap soon, too.
She once joked that it was unfair for both girls to take after their father so much after she'd spent a combined year and a half to bring them into the world, but the reality? Watching Ulysses with their daughters felt like a dream. She was glad they took after him, inquisitive and intelligent. They embodied all his best qualities, every reason she loves him is there in their children.
Their older daughter, Dakota, is nearing 7. Her braids have a few beads already- one for her family, one for being the eldest daughter, one for her sister. Sierra will get her own soon, once she can sit still for more than two minutes.
It'll be just as emotional as Dakota's, she thinks. Ulysses isn't a crier, but Roz is, and she's not ashamed to admit she cried when Dakota ran to her, full of pride, to show off her first beads.
She watches them, sitting at the end of the bed. There's meaning to his hair that he won't tell her about just yet- memories he wants to keep safe for now, but there's plenty other stories he will tell her.
Ulysses Week days 4 and 6: A Place You Breathe Life Into/Something New From the Old
oh look, more fluff.
3am, on the dot, Rosalyn is woken by her child kicking her square in the ribs. Seven months along, they were more active at night. She understood why it was happening, but that doesn't mean she has to like it. Another kick, she groans, and decided to get up and pace until they settle back down.
A shame, to detangle herself from Ulysses, but she also had to pee, so. Felt like that was all she did, some days, when the baby uses her bladder as a seat. Two months to go, she thinks, Cannot get here fast enough.
Still, it wasn't terrible overall. Kind of fascinating to feel their child moving, and Ulysses...well. Took him a few weeks to stop being so afraid, after she'd told him. Not that she could blame him- it had been difficult enough to get him to stay with her at all, let alone have a child together. Too many homes lost, that trauma doesn't just go away. But she was in his braids, now, and he just needed time.
If her getting up didn't wake him, the toilet flushing sure would. He was still a light sleeper, old habits and all. There was enough security around their home to not need a watch- she'd hijacked a few securitrons to patrol the property, and they did a fine job. Made building the house, easier, too. But Ulysses still woke at the slightest sound, the slightest change in environment.
"Your child keeps kicking me in the ribs," She grumbled, sliding back under the covers and back into his arms.
"My child?"
"Yes, when they're tap dancing on my ribcage, they're your child"
He laughs, softly, and places one hand on her stomach. The baby kicks where he's touching- they usually do. “Let your mother sleep,” He says, quiet, “Plenty of time to wake her after you arrive,”
“You're on night shift when that happens, you know,” She lays with her back to him, a nest of pillows in front of her to support the bump, warm in his embrace and ready to sleep again. She laces her fingers into his, over her bump. If he responds, she doesn't hear it, she sleeps easy in his arms.
She wakes alone, sunlight streaming in, the smell of breakfast wafting under the door. For a salvage door, it was in great shape. Most of the house was salvage, actually. Old wood, old fixtures, furniture from the Lucky 38 or traded from other cities. The bed was newer, made by some artisans that made camp hear the house and then never left. That happens a lot, actually. So much so that she'd had to rename her home already- from Turtle Ranch to Maturin's Hollow. Seemed a better name for the community that seemingly sprouted out of the ground overnight.
There's a mug of tea on the nightstand, still hot. Some concoction Ulysses made to help with the nausea that has been consistent throughout the pregnancy. It helps tremendously, and made great use of all the mint they'd had to clear out. A lesson, there. Keep that in the planters in the house, along with the rest of the herbs they use the most.
The peppers must have been ready, from what she can smell. She'll head out later to harvest anything else that's ready, if Ulysses hasn't beaten her to it already. He probably has, doesn't like her doing too much work now. The gardens were huge- a communal effort. She knows she'll tire out quick if she tries. Maybe she'll just sit on the porch today, enjoy the springtime. Enough people come through that she'll have plenty to do, despite standing orders for as much bedrest as possible.
She finishes her tea, glad for the relief it brings, and gets out of bed.
