#Salem likes to prank Deacon

[fallout-fucker]

Crows Of The Commonwealth

I was on CrowTok and it made me come up with an idea.

So, obviously a lot of the crows in the Commonwealth are made by the Institute, though I personally like to believe that there are still a lot of crows that are regular ones, too.

Crows are an incredibly smart species of bird, which makes sense as to why they're the ones the Institute use. To my memory, I don't think there are any other birds in the game. Again, I'd like to headcanon that they're not the only ones left but if only a few species of birds managed to survive the bombs and the aftermath, I wouldn't put it past crows to be one of those species due to that intelligence.

Crows are known for recognising people, which also works in favour of the Institute as to why they'd choose them specifically. If you are able to tell the difference between individual crows, you'll be less likely to question if a specific one if following you if you are aware they likely recognise you.

However, they're also known to bring gifts and trinkets if treated right, or actually attack people who don't. And they remember faces. I don't get the impression that the Institute treats them too kindly if they don't even consider Gen 3 Synths as people, who are literally created with technology and human biology/DNA.

If we imagine that the Institute Crows work like Synths do, then that means that they are also able to become independent like Synths can. We know they have the level of intelligence, more so than another species of bird, to perhaps reach that level of independence. That's exactly why the Institute picked them. Wouldn't it be ironic if that became part of the Institute's downfall.

So imagine a Sole Survivor, fresh out of the Vault, scared and cold on their first few nights. Hungry, tired, likely sick, grieving. Alone. They have Dogmeat. They have themselves. A few strangers they saved. Nothing else.

They're trying their best one night to settle. They've only been unfrozen for a few days by now, but have yet to leave Sanctuary. They chose to stay for a couple days to prepare for their long journey ahead, and rebuild their home so they had somewhere to go back to. Preston has taught them basics self defence and survival, Sturges has helped them temporarily fix the holes in their walls. They're not close to these strangers yet, but there's a small comfort in knowing there's still people, and people nearby to run to if anything not friendly comes knocking on their door.

They're picking at a 200 year old box of stale cereal, not able to stomach the taste just yet. In the end, they end up leaving it in a bowl for Dogmeat to have, preferring to sleep, hunger be damned. They sleep on the floor that used to hold the dinning table, not ready to sleep in the now-too-empty bedrooms.

By morning, their sleep is interrupted. Not by the cold October air that their thin, makeshift blanket- That doubles as their coat during the day- barley keeps away. Not by the sunlight that seeps in by the broken shards of class where the window used to be. Not by drops of rain that fall through the cracks in the ceiling. Not even by Dogmeat licking then awake, like he did yesterday morning. This time it's the sound of pecking and squawking that has Sole prying their eyes open.

A small group of grows picking at the bowl of cereal. They must've gotten in through what once was the window, or literally any of the holes of missing metal panels scattered throughout the building. Sole barely has it in them to care. They know they shouldn't waste food that could've gone to them or their new furry friend, but they truly cannot bring it in them to mind. They wonder if the birds have a hard time finding food, too, and decide it might not be a waste at all.

They sit up. A few of the crows fly up onto the windowsill at their movements, one stays enjoying their breakfast, unfazed. Sole waits, sitting still until the birds realise they have no intention of harming them. They glide back down onto the floor, going back to eating.

After a few moments, the crow that stayed perks his head up, neck twitching into an angle that lets him look at Sole. He hops over, stopping just before he reaches their lap. Sole raises their hand, thumb and index finger moving slowly until they land on its neck. His feathers bristle under Sole's pets, his feet dancing happily beneath him. The other crows finish their breakfast. Salem, Sole decides to call him, joins his friends who hop back onto the windowsill. They fly off. He turns his head to the side, a beady eye looking at Sole again. He squawks at them before flying off to join the others.

Sole spends the rest of their day taking metal panels from some of the completely collapsed houses to fix the holes in their walls. They're able to find paint at the old Red Rocket down the road when looking for more equipped tools. Repainting isn't exactly their priority right now, just making sure the house will be fit to stand against the weather, and for when it gets colder in the next few months. The paint will be useful when they get to the stage of being able to consider making it look presentable, however. Unfortunately, the only paintbrush they find is snapped in half. They toss it in frustration. Less so because of the brush itself, and more so because Sole has a lot of anger built up from the events of the last few days that they have no other outlet for.

They end up going home when the sun starts to set, having avoided the empty tomb of memories for as long as possible. It wasn't safe to be out so close to dark.

When they set down their tolls by the door, something on the kitchen counter catches their eye.

Upon inspection, they realise it's an intact paintbrush.

Their confusion lasts barely five seconds, as they hear a familiar squawk. Hoping on the windowsill is Salem. His eyes study Sole. He's waiting. Sole smiles, pulling open the duffle bag they'd taken on their supply run. They pull out two wild mutfruits, which they'd harvested from bushes near the station. Sole cuts them into smaller pieces, before tossing them gently into the grass of their back garden from the car porch. Salem glides to the pieces, now satisfied in knowing that Sole approved of and appreciated his gift. Sole looks up to the trees that border their garden where other crows have started to also descend from to join in on the food offering. Apparently, there's a lot more in this group than what Sole had assumed from the smaller one earlier. About twenty feathered creatures dance about on branches decorated by orange and brown leaves or nibble at the mutfruit in the grass.

Salem flies over once he's had his fill, taking a seat on Sole's shoulder. His friends also begin hopping over gradually, and Sole ends up sitting down to welcome them and pet their small heads. Dogmeat also seems to love the attention, or perhaps just the warmth that radiates from Sole's body as he curls up next to them. Every so often, one of them drops a trinket into Sole's lap as they snuggle into them. A random screw, some gears, even some bottlecaps. Bits and bobs that a few days ago, Sole would've considered mostly junk, even if they'd still been appreciative, but everything now is useful. They even drop a few things by Dogmeat's snout, who sniffs them, tail wagging. Sole doesn't think Salem appreciates the happy licks Dogmeat gives him, though.

Regardless, Sole breathes out slowly, deeply, as they take in the sunset and birdsong before them. It's the first time they've honestly felt any peace since leaving that godforsaken Vault.

Sole makes a mental note to redesign the kitchen window when they get around to fixing it so that it'll be able to open widely. They also begin thinking about designs for birdhouses, feeders, and small fountains.

It's safe to say Sole feels slightly better than they did when they went to bed last night.

They feel less alone.

For some reason, as Salem nestles into their lap, against their stomach, a small pressure builds in their gut. They can't quite shake the instinct, the thought that comes with it. The feeling that Salem feels less alone now, too.

[sassenashsworld]

The Game - Deacon

Deacon realized quite quickly MacCready had rushed, and he understands the process. For his part, he prefers to wait and watch.

First, even though the gamble initially amused him immensely, it raised some profound questions deep inside him. Trying to tempt Nora? Surely no matter what the outcome, he’d have a laugh guarantees, but in fact, would he? If Nora falls for him, more than just a caress, how is he going to manage the situation? Not that Nora isn’t a pretty girl and he wouldn’t be flattered if she turned out to have an interest in him, but since Barbara… Since Barbara, not only does he no longer feel any emotion of this kind for anyone, but when something wants to rise in his heart, he kills it in the egg. He doesn’t lead a life for romance.

So, he decides to approach the subject from the best angle possible, a prank. And even if the jackpot can be interesting, he has no expectations. Especially not another goal.

As for a good trick, he must prepare. First, think about where he will take his turn, think about his costume (oooh, that’s his favorite part) and also think about what he will say… or won’t say. Finally, find the perfect timing.

He doesn’t know how others are preparing, but it takes him a few days to settle his plan. He had heard Nora talking about Salem to investigate a museum of witchcraft and he intends to take advantage of it. What better way to throw a lady into a man’s arms than with a fright? He therefore turns around the said lady the following days to make sure to be the companion of her choice during the quest.

“I thought I’d go with Nick. I don’t need a sensitive soul who would spend his time freaking.”

“Do I look like a sensitive soul?”

“Why is a Railroad agent interested in a horror museum?”

"Why the General of Minutemen?"

“Good point. I’m leaving in two days. The Abernathy farm needs a new well and I intend to finish it before I leave.”

When Nora returns to Sanctuary on the second day, she looks clean exhausted and would probably need a good shower. However, she prepares her bag without delay and orders Deacon to do the same. He’s already has put on his best shirt and his tightest jeans. Knowing Nora fell for Porter, he decides not to wear a wig, thinking maybe shaved skulls attract her.

“I got everything ready. We can go whenever you want.”

«I really would have preferred to investigate this story with you» Nick scolds when he meets them.

“Me too,” Nora says. “But Deacon insisted. I think he has something for the creepy stories.”

“I think it’s creepy” Nick slips between his teeth.

He throws a suspicious look at the spy who smiles at him with all his teeth. When Deacon walks near him, the detective whispers to be heard only from him.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but if it’s about the bet, remember Nora’s life is worth more than a hundred and twenty caps.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her like you have no idea.”

His fellow does not seem at all reassured but the Sole Survivor is already almost at the entrance of the city and does not seem at all determined to wait for her companion. He trots a little to catch her and then whistles a good part of the way. The day is warm, but the wind is nice, the sun is still high and the roads are clear. A good walk in nature. Deacon feels it very well.

It’s finally close to midnight when Deacon feels it much worse. He visited the Concord History Museum, he visited some historical squares in Boston, he even helped establish the RailRoad headquarters in an old crypt. However, the horrible, decrepit Victorian house around which the bodies seem to accumulate gives him a chill in the spine. A little confused, he turns to Nora.

“I know you like to get to the bottom of things, but it might be nice to wait until morning before going for a ride in this thing.”

“Are you chickening out?”

“No. But why tempt the devil?”

“Because we are hunting him.”

He swallows discreetly, not really sure if this chick is serious or not. However, it’s out of the question for him to appear more frightened than she, but he begins to wonder if he was sane thinking it was a good idea. Shit, to take the beauty in his arms and reassure her, she must be scared. The woman who steps on the ground in front of him seems rather determined.

When they enter the building, everything is dark and dusty but far from silence. Deacon would unfortunately recognize these grunts between miles and suddenly, it thought that ghosts of witches or perhaps even the devil himself would have been better.

“Shit… deathclaw.”

Nora turns to look at him and nods her head, she too begins to suspect it’s one of these animals that has settled in the museum and frightens everyone around. They continue to move slowly, excessively on their guard, when pieces of a corpse literally fall from a hole in the floor.

“Wha… Jesus!”

Deacon promised himself not to react, not to show any nervousness and especially not fear, but a corpse has literally fallen to appart through the floor right in front of them. It was a purely instinctive reaction, but Nora comes back to him, puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder and looks at him with pity.

“Would you rather wait outside?”

“Shit! I was surprised, who wouldn’t?”

"The beast is in the middle of a buffet and the floor full of holes. I confess I was expecting it."

Shit! So much for his plan. However, he tries his luck, taking advantage of their proximity to raise a hand and put it on the young woman’s cheek. He tries to speak with as much tenderness as possible, hoping to always have an arm at the end of the adventure (deathclaw like Nora probably as much threatening his limb).

“You know I’ll go through with you, I’ll never let you down.”

The nose of the young woman gets wrinkle and she frowns, but decides to take the hand of her companion in hers to make him let go, retreating a step.

“What fear can do to a man.”

He raises his eyebrows, stunned.

“I’m not scared!”

“Come on, I’m here. We’ll do this together, you’ll see, we’ll get through this.”

“I am NOT afraid!”

“Sssssh. Not to be ashamed of. But silent, yes, please.”

He scolds inwardly, humiliated.

When he finally arrives at the Sanctuary bar to declare his forfeit, he is still not derided. Nora acted all along as a reassuring mother to him, even during the fight. Then, as they discovered Deathclaw’s eggs in the Museum of Witchcraft, they decided to take them to the nest, and Nora asked him to wait at the canyon entrance to ‘spare his emotions’.

He never felt so embarrassed in his whole life and he said to himself a hundred and so caps don’t worth it and he doesn’t want to try again.