ghoul-foolery - Tumblr blog

[ghoul-foolery]

people (me) died

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“That’s my girl. When I ask you a question, I want you to answer me, baby. Want to make sure we are on the same page. Mm, fuck, you like riding my thigh baby? You do, don’t you? You fucking love it…

“Easy, I wanna take my time with you. Wanted this for so fucking long. I’ve dreamed about you begging me to give you my cock, baby. And you beg so sweet. Unless you want a quick ‘n’ easy finish?

“Is that what you want, baby? You wanna to fuck your ghoul’s thigh until you cum? Answer me. Do you want to fuck your ghoul, sweetheart?”

I don’t think Hancock would ever shut up during sex send tweet

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I just want to start a flame in your heart~ 🔥🧡🔥

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The way I’ve wanted a slow-ish burn Nate x Nora x Hancock fic since 20-fucking-15.

Give me… Ghoul!Nate who wasn’t home the morning the bombs dropped, and has no clue his wife secured a place for them in the vault, or that she is still alive. Ghoul!Nate who was around for the Goodneighbor coup, and is one of Hancock’s closest friends and go-to muscle. Hancock who is so dang smitten over the vaultie who just rolled into town, only to realize it’s his best friend’s wife.

The angst. The pining. The ghoul shit.

Give me… Nate and Nora both surviving the vault — Kellogg didn’t shoot to kill/some kinda cryo science bullshit kept them alive through the remaining freeze — and it’s the three idiots just steadily coming together over time.

The friends to lovers pipeline. The “I love you both so much”. The “if anything happens to me take care of my spouse”.

Give me… that weird three-way soulmate au because I am the biggest sucker for soulmate au.

The “omg they have another soulmate”.

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I don’t think Hancock would ever shut up during sex send tweet

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Dirty Windows | 5 | Female!SoSu x Hancock

A Soulmate AU

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Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

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[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ]

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It was funny. Hancock had always been comfortable in his skin, ruined or not; it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, John knew exactly who he was. He was a decent man. Maybe not a good man, but he was decent. Ish. His moral compass was a little skewed but, despite outward appearances, he wasn’t a total fucking monster. The world needed men like him to keep the real monsters at bay.  That was all that mattered, until it didn't. His soulmate's searing rejection left him feeling uncertain, and so insecure that even Fahrenheit avoided giving him a proper ribbing - and she usually dished liberal amounts of bullshit to everyone.

What part of him wasn't good enough?

The woman had just lost her husband; he understood that. Hancock could only imagine the pain she was enduring, but she insisted on fighting it alone - and that baffled him. Why would someone want to brave this mess of a world by themselves if they didn't have to? Especially since she had been cooped up in that vault for however long. She was obviously inexperienced, and she wasn't great at defending herself, with or without a gun. Despite it all, she ignored him every time he offered to help.

Fine, he thought. Fuck it, then.

He could ignore her, too.

That was what he told himself, at least.

Drugs had been a constant in Hancock's life for many years. They were his favorite crutch, and he enjoyed mixing them up into a high powered cocktail that would knock any smoothskin on their ass for a couple of days at a time. As a ghoul he needed the strong stuff anyway, but as John fucking Hancock he needed something even stronger, something so much more potent. While he absolutely loathed to admit it, Hancock was a little more than emotionally compromised after being rejected by his soulmate again, and again (and again). He wanted to get absolutely fuckin obliterated just to forget for a while. He invested his spare time in experimenting with chems, and alcohol. There were a few tried and true combinations that had been worthwhile, but he needed something more. They weren't strong enough, they didn't last long enough. So he decided to be a mad scientist for a couple of days. He played with different elements, mixing basic jet and psycho with a variety of different additives.

For a couple of days, Hancock was higher than a fucking kite. It wasn't constant though. He would start to crash, and he would take another hit. Taking larger doses would fix the problem, but every time he would prepare himself to up the ante he would hesitate. Because what if, in his drug-induced stupor, his soulmate needed him? What if she needed help and he was too blitzed to do anything outside of giggle at the disembodied voice? Instead of stumbling into the what-if scenario every time he came down from his high, Hancock only wanted to be obligated to make this decision once. The dilemma was making something strong enough that wouldn't end up killing him. He wasn't ready for that quite yet. For the time being, he would take a few hits of this and that every few hours.

It was approaching mid afternoon on another drug addled day when Hancock found himself on the down-swing of one of his highs. He felt sluggish and heavy, and his mouth was dry. His brain hurt. The inhaler was clasped between his teeth as he unscrewed the cap from a bottle of vodka - and that's when he heard it.

Soft sobbing, a sniffle.

"Why couldn't he have killed me, too? Why did he let me live? I can't do this without you. Why couldn't he have killed me instead?"

Hancock seemed to sober almost immediately. The inhaler dropped from his mouth as he listened to the poor woman cry. Part of him wanted to be a snarky asshole; wrong number, sweetheart. Nate ain't here. The other part of him was wholly sympathetic. She was miserable, and she was heartbroken, and she was hurting, and Hancock wanted to make all of that go away. He wanted to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.

His body sank into the couch as he rubbed at his eyes, "Oh, honey..."

There was a gasp, soft but piercing. The woman withdrew from their bond so fast he swore. He flinched, physically recoiling into the couch as his eyes shot open.

"No," he told the room, rising to his feet in a surprisingly fluid movement. "Not this time."

Hancock reached out for her, recreating the severed connection with ease. All he saw was darkness, but he could hear her crying. She was hyperventilating, and her body was shaking. She was hungry too. Her gut felt painfully empty. It took a conscious effort to keep his own breathing steady. He hadn't prepared for the tidal wave of emotions that crashed over him.

"Hey."

Another gut-wrenching sob.

"Hey, look, I... I..." There were tears in his eyes as his soulmate's emotions overtook him. The righteous fury he was intent on delivering faltered into something soft and pleading. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did..." a sniffle, he dragged the arm of the coat across his cheeks.

"Madam? Madam, are you alright?" the voice was muffled but (surprisingly) British. It was a Mister Handy unit, if he ever heard one. The woman opened her eyes and Hancock finally had the opportunity to see where she was. A bedroom of some kind. It was old, radiation-ravished like most of the Commonwealth. There was a simple blue crib sitting in the middle of the room. "I am sure that Sir and Shaun will be home soon..."

More anguish, more heartbreak, more fucking tears.

"Just - both of you! GO AWAY!"

Hancock swallowed around the lump in his throat, and he sniffled yet again as he tried to regain control of his emotions. Before he broke the connection, he whispered, "I'll be here if ya need me."

He dove back into the drugs, and let himself drift off into oblivion for the rest of the evening.

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oh this lil' darlin' is going to be FAMOUS

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Charon sketches

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can't let this fic idea go: Cooper Howard x "Nora" in the Fallout 4 Commonwealth (maybe not even an AU, just before the events of the series)... I don't want to spoil too much but would anyone be interested in reading if I wrote it up?

Just loving the idea of the sole survivor & the ghoul bonding over their memories of pre-bombs America and their shared search for their kids and their mourning of their spouses (in one way or another!)

I mean I basically have chapter 1 written.... LMK

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UNTITLED GOOSEY GAME

Golden rule motherf*cker : Untitled Goosey Game 🔪

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Playing through Fallout 4’s campaign and GodDAMN I forgot all about Edward Deegan 🔥

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GhoulcyWeek minicomic day 4 ‘gentle touch’ PART 2 of 3. This was an idea from a follower from Twitter: “Cooper telling Lucy to hold still while he patches an injury she can't reach, briefly brushing his thumb across a sensitive spot.” ❤️

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What can I say? Never shipped a woman and a ghoul. Until now. ❤️

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petition for the ghoul to show some tit and forearms in season 2 (and be a damsel in distress) ref

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 4 | Female!SoSu x Hancock

A Soulmate AU

-

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

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[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] - [ 5 ]

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After leaving the vault, Nora had decided to bypass Sanctuary Hills all together. From the top of the hill she could see the neighborhood she and her family had lived in. The buildings were in shambles, some completely gone and others barely managing to hold on. She didn’t need to venture down memory lane. She knew she would succumb to the heartbreak. So she skirted around the neighborhood with the intention of jumping straight into hunting down her baby. After jumping off of a house and getting shot in the shoulder, she returned home with her tail between her legs.

This time when the neighborhood came into view, Nora got misty eyed. Nate had picked the neighborhood to live in when they agreed it was time to start their family. It turned out to be a lovely place. Mostly. There were neighborhood wide events that some families would hold, turning the place lively and vibrant with decorations. They had planned on a block party for Halloween, and Nate had been so excited to dress up and participate.

It was haunting the way some of the Halloween decorations lingered in the houses. Some were faded and aged, curling at the edges and discolored beyond recognition. What were once happily smiling Jack o’ Lantern cutouts were pallid faces smiling maliciously through dirty windows.

Rounding the curve of the street, Nora almost started sobbing when she saw what was left of her house. It was a wreck, but it wasn’t completely destroyed. There was still a front door, and a roof in some places. Maybe she could spruce it up, and make it livable. All she would need to do was to find the right tools, and the proper materials. Her eyes swept the neighboring houses, some of the pre-nuke ire kicking in and making the need to cry wane.

It felt like just yesterday when her neighbor had called Nora’s ability to be a mother into question. Apparently, wanting to return to work after having Shaun immediately made Nora an awful mother. The same neighbor had complained to the HOA when she didn’t get her leaves raked or her lawn mowed. Nora would gut that house with morbid delight. That would come later, though. First, she had to get inside her own home and survey the damage. Before she knew it, Nora was standing at the front door, her hand on the knob. She was breathing hard, her lips trembling. What would she see when she went inside?

Slowly, she began to turn the handle-

"Miss Nora?"

Jolting away from the door, Nora reached for her gun. Had she taken just a second to think, Nora would have realized that whoever it was that snuck up on her somehow knew her name - but she didn't stop to think. The gun was drawn and lifted as she pivoted on her heel.

She blanched, "Codsworth?"

"Miss Nora!" The Mister Handy's body swiveled, the movement punctuating the exuberance in his voice. He drifted closer. "Miss, you are finally home! You are... two centuries late for dinner! Perhaps I could whip something up for you. Maybe a snack? You must be famished!"

Two centuries, he said. That couldn't be right, and yet her Pip-Boy echoed the sentiment. She had hoped it was a gross error.

"No, Codsworth, I'm fine," she said softly, reaching out and giving him a gentle push back so she could maintain her personal space. "You said," she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Two centuries?"

"Oh, yes, madam! I've been waiting here patiently for yours and sir's return!" Another swivel of his limbs and then the robot turned. "Where is sir? And master Shaun?"

More tears. She wanted it to be an error in his coding. She bit down on the inside of her lip. That couldn’t be right, and yet it was. She knew it was. Crying was, apparently, all she was good for these days. Nora didn't answer the question, saying it out loud would make it feel more real. Like saying it out loud would make it more permanent than it already was. At the moment she was content with the idea that this was all a horrific nightmare. She turned suddenly, entering the house in an effort to avoid any more of Codsworth's questions.

The door creaked open. The sound was eerie, and it gave her goosebumps. Her home was in a sorry state but it was cleaner than she had anticipated. Though mostly destroyed, the furniture that could stand to function was right where she left it. Picture frames were placed on the shelves, though the images they once housed were worn and faded. There was a fine layer of dust on just about everything, but it wasn't much - and that was surprising, considering the sorry state everything was in.

"Ah, my apologies, madam. I have yet to do my chores today."

Nora glanced over her shoulder, not at all surprised that the Mister Handy was right behind her. She shifted aside so Codsworth could enter the house then made it a point to close the door once he was inside.

"It's fine, Codsworth-"

"You will have to forgive me, Miss. I have tried to clean this place up a bit, but-"

"Codsworth-"

"But nothing gets nuclear fallout out of vinyl wood! Nothing!" The machine lamented, and she felt a ghost of a smile tug at her lips - the first bit of amusement she had experienced since leaving the vault.

Nora listened as Codsworth assured her that he would get to cleaning immediately, that he would try scrubbing at the floors once again, and Nora left him to it. She made her way through her ruined home. The bedroom was the first stop; it was mostly destroyed. The wall was almost blown out, the ceiling was mostly missing. The bed was completely destroyed. So were their wedding photos. Nora retreated, only to go straight to Shaun's room.

This room looked as though it was the cleanest room in the house. Things had been broken down, and other things were very obviously missing but it was her son's room. The walls and ceiling were still intact, and she could pick out the remnants of the rug they had rolled out over the floor. Before she could stop herself, Nora dropped into one of the corners of the room. She gazed at the broken remains of her son's crib.

It had taken Nate three hours to put that damn crib together. After crumpling up the instruction booklet and tossing it in the trash, it only took 20 minutes for Nate to return to the kitchen to dig through the trash. Nora didn’t say that she picked the instructions out of the trash but she did offer to help. Nate refused. He refused quite adamantly. It took her husband close to three hours to put the crib together. He did it without the instructions, and with a great deal of swearing. When Nora pulled the instructions from her pocket to toss them into the trash he looked absolutely scandalized. The way he chased her through the house afterward, both of them laughing as he let her make narrow escapes.

Nora suddenly choked, leaning in and pressing her watery eyes to her knees.

"Why couldn't he have killed me, too?" She whimpered. "Why did he let me live? I can't do this without you. Why couldn't he have killed me instead?"

There was a moment where she waited for the deep voice of her husband. Part of her desperately hoped that he would respond, that he would tell her that he was out of the vault and on his way to help.

"Oh, honey..."

The voice didn't belong to her husband. It wasn't that deep baritone of a voice that she loved so much. It was the stranger, with his rasping, graveled tenor. In the midst of her sadness she had reached out through the bond. She had been searching for Nate, but someone else was in his place. Equal parts mortified and infuriated, Nora withdrew from their connection with enough force that it left her head pounding. Fresh tears emerged as she allowed herself to wallow. She shouldn’t have come back to Sanctuary Hills.

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A cowboy ghoul...what more could I ask for?