mentatsghcul-blog

[mentatsghcul-blog]

ooc.   remaking one of the blogs  &  characters closest to your heart is literally death.

[mentatsghcul-blog]

ooc.   remaking one of the blogs  &  characters closest to your heart is literally death.

[mentatsghcul-blog]

ooc.   remaking one of the blogs  &  characters closest to your heart is literally death.

[mentatsghcul-blog]

CONFLAGRATIONSSTYLE.

▂▂ ♂ ▂▂

      Sweet Freedom.

   Once she’s out of Goodneighbor, Blaze takes on her true form and goes for a quick hunt, first and foremost. She’s now better rested and much more eager… ready for a meal. Some twin-headed deer was the unfortunate victim of Blaze’s hunger, she’d have to ask Hancock what the common term for it was later. Avoiding the obvious cysts woven in and out of the flesh, Blaze takes care to eat her fill of normal looking flesh before moving on to her destination.

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             HANCOCK   had been enjoying his   own    meal when she arrived,  ceremoniously as she did,   with his plate in his lap and his feet upon the coffee table of his  COZY  little den.  He knew she’d come back;  had a feeling that she’d take care of it just the way he wanted her to,   AND THEN SOME.  Maybe it was just that she seemed like the type:    all teeth,   all flame.   Part woman,  part blaze.   Hancock placed the half eaten meal upon the coffee table after her announcement.  He kept his feet up.

“Fifteen,  huh?”   And he took her in;    all of her,  with a discerning eye. He was looking for the remnants of a tiff  --  gunpowder,  BLOOD.  There were parts of her hair that seemed as though they didn’t mix with the rest;  they were darker in places,   different.   He didn’t think he’d comment on it.

He removed her satchel of earned caps from somewhere in his jacket,   tossing   the bag in her direction.  “Here,”  He said.  “For all your hard work.”

[mentatsghcul-blog]

CONFLAGRATIONSSTYLE.

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             AT   that wiggle upon his lap, Hancock let out a  long  sound;  part whine,  part groan,  part desperation. In his nakedness,   with her,    the initial discomfort   --    the fear,  if he wanted to cut the bullshit and be honest about it  --  seemed to dissolve into nothing except  pure pressure;   a good sort of pressure,  but he expected it from her.  There was something about her;   hell,   maybe it was the hair,   that was intoxicating.  There wasn’t a chem high out there that could come even   CLOSE   to this.   “I ain’t,”   He started.  “I ain’t the kinda guy that wants t’give ya what ya   EXPECT.”  

He fasted a hand around the wrist of her   working    hand.   He couldn’t   see   from this angle.  He wanted to.  “Let me have a look,”  He said.  Or whispered,  really,   across the couch to her.  “I wanna watch.”

[mentatsghcul-blog]

ooc.  so i’ve been summarily kicked out of my house in a sense.  i left to stay w / my boyfriend for the weekend because my family has been   awful    to me  (  because i didn’t unload the dishwasher!!! once!!! lmao!!!  )  so those starter calls and drafts will be done  when i can get them done here at the library;  pls.... have patience tbh

[mentatsghcul-blog]

-- starter call.

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              HOO   it has been a while, hasn’t it?   I finally plan on returning to this blog in  full force  since I  1. )  have recovered fully from my injury  and  2. )  have finally been able to secure myself a job that   isn’t   horrible;  i plan on doing a   lot    of revamping to this blog in the future,  but for now....   please   LIKE  /  REBLOG  if you are interested in roleplaying with a   IND.  SEL.  SEMI - PRIVATE.  Hancock  from  FALLOUT 4.  

[mentatsghcul-blog]

[mentatsghcul-blog]

@scrap-n-crap  liked for a book - based starter.

           “THIS  ain’t really a good town for  psychedelic  drugs.  Reality itself is too twisted.”  Pressed,  however,  Hancock would not have been able to discern Goodneighbor’s drug of choice  --  it wasn’t something he was  certain  he could’ve plucked out of a line - up.  He knew his own choice selections;  what the citizens of his town did to shoot up and shoot down their own fears, worries, concerns and pains...  they weren’t any of his business. But the sort of drugs that made you lose track of the world?  Well  --  it wasn’t something you ought to have done in Goodneighbor’s streets. Y’could lose  everything.

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@massmedic  liked for a book - based starter.

           “GOOD  people drink  good  beer.”  And to that, the glass is raised.  It catches the light of the Third Rail’s interior   --    it was a misnomer to refer to the Third Rail’s  swill  as  ‘  good  ‘  beer.  (  though it certainly wasn’t  bad;  Hancock’s tasted and  brewed  worse himself.  )  But the atmosphere,  at least,  made up for where the alcohol  failed.  Where else in the Commonwealth could you find a dive just like  this  one?  AND IT WAS HIS.

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@formerbravo  liked for a book - based starter.

          “MAYBE  it meant somethin’...  maybe not.”  A metaphorical show of raised, shrugging shoulders follows that;  it insinuated that he didn’t care,  particularly,  if it mattered or if it didn’t. Truth told, Hancock wasn’t sure how he’d place how he felt. Did he give a damn if it meant anything?  Sure --  if it happened within Goodneighbor, Hancock more or less took the liberty of making it his business. But on occasions like this...  it was better to leave it to the  other  guy, to help him figure out if  they  cared at all,  too.

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@golddustonmybootheels  liked for a book - based starter.

           “THERE’S  no sympathy for th’devil;  keep that in mind.”  No judgments here,   NOT REALLY  --  even if he’s got the tinge of disapproval for some of her pet projects,  he understands the ideas behind ‘em.  Mal and Ellie both have forced an understanding of them,  in their own way.  But the reminder  --  however ungentle  --  is provided to her regardless,  delivered by a leaned in body and a  whisper  of what he really thinks lying in the undercurrent.

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my   first   death   orbits   my   head,  an ambiguous nimbus, medallion of my ordeal.  no one crosses that circle.  having been hanged for something i never said,  i can now say anything i say.  |  ind.  sel.  semi - priv  toko fukawa.  written by jay.

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well,  all children are sad.     but some get over it.   count your blessings.  better than that!   buy a hat.  buy a coat or pet.  take up dancing to forget.  forget what?  your sadness,  your shadow      –   whatever it was that was done to you.    |     ind.  sel.  semi - private  hatake kakashi.  written by jay.

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ooc.   skype drop  --  add me if we’re mutuals!  i’ve made myself a nice clean slate bc.... 2 years of 103 contacts is a little ridiculous when u don’t speak to half of them.