#hancock has feelings

[whatanightmaregrinch]

John Hancock x Fem!Sole Survivor- holy matron

{{ TW: Drug use, biblical references ig?, intense feelings}}

In Hancock’s opinion, taking up with the vault-dweller had saved him. Feeling like a fraud was no good, but walking around Goodneighbor made it worse. It only fed his increasing self-loathing, and then in turn, his chem habits. He spent most of his time either in his office absolutely fucked out of his face, or stamping out get-rich-quick schemes he would have given an arm and a leg to be a part of with people and ghouls he would have been glad to call his partners, and it was weighing on him. If he wasn’t concerned about the threats to his people, it was his own personal demons that taunted him. So many times he’d thought about taking just one too many Day-tripper, just to see how close he could get to the edge without going over (although he was more than sure that if he did tumble off of the edge, he wouldn’t have given a shit anyway).

Constantly grappling with his inner self; he felt like two men consistently battling for the right to live, the stronger of the two dictating his actions at the time. The coward who he desperately wanted to bury, urging him to just hide under his covers and take as much jet as he could not to feel anything, the degenerate who’d allowed a fellow drifter to meet their end at the hands of Vic and his boys- and the ghoul he’d forcibly become. The ghoul who treated his citizens with care, the ghoul who would stand up for what was right no matter the cost, famous for his freedom loving attitude and warm hospitality. He figured he’d get a little soul searching out of their travels together initially, but he ended up discovering a whole different way to be. Sole Survivor’s bottomless confidence and kindness had revived the way he thought about the Commonwealth and the people in it, and quite frankly, it had scared him. He’d never expected such a change to blossom within him, and it ignited an intense fire. The type of fire that had shown him he was thinking too small in terms of personal goals. This woman had somehow managed to co-ordinate a bunch of tattered strangers into becoming a trusted outfit (a feat, considering the name “Minutemen” often left a shitty taste in people’s mouths), all the while searching for her son and taking the fucking Institute on. If she could do that all at the same time, he could at least try and get his shit together.  When they woke in the mornings, he was more excited to start the day with her, not terrified, high, and preparing for that day to be his last in the wastelands. Maybe some things would never change- like his habitual chem use, but he didn’t force Buffout and Mentats down his throat as soon as his eyes cracked open just to deal with the thought of being alive, most days. Sometimes it was bad, and he felt like he couldn’t move from the pile he’d put himself into, but she would always be there to lend him a hand, out of the dark hole and into the light again. He was sure the Commonwealth had brought forth an angel, a dazzling burst of sunshine on his radiation-clouded day. She listened to everything and anything he had to say, and the more he talked, revealing the sorer parts of himself, the more he realised the fondness he had for her was developing into something more tangible, something real. She had too many shining qualities for him not to be attracted to her- and like a moth to a flame, he was sucked in.  Guilt ate at him most days after he realised how he felt about her. He felt like he was betraying the trust his friend had placed in him to travel with her as a companion- his widowed friend, no less. She didn’t really talk about her spouse, Nate, only if something small came up- like if a song came on that he used to like, or when they’d eat sugar bombs and she would smile a sort of painful smile, recounting how she’d throw them at Nate for him to catch in his mouth. There was a part of Hancock that detested Nate- not for loving Sole, but for being such a standard of man that John could never hope to compare himself too. It was unfair of him to do that, he knew that Nate wasn’t the one stopping him from being a better man, but when it came to Sole, Hancock wished he could be nothing short of perfect for her. For starters, he wasn’t smooth-skinned the way she was, and whilst he had confidence, it wasn’t that much confidence. She was ethereal at times, eyes straight from a pre-war film actress that burned into the back of his eyelids. He was well ... He was John Hancock, the guy who’d purposely taken a radiation drug knowing it was about to fuck him up and turn his skin into a pile of brahmin shit, just so he didn’t have to look at his own face anymore. Cause a girl’s gonna find self-mutilation sooo attractive. Sole wasn’t the type to judge on appearance- he was sure of that, but he couldn’t be sure that he was what she wanted, and losing the close bond he had with her over something like this scared him to silence regarding his feelings. He promised himself he wouldn’t read too much into how she acted and responded to him, he knew well enough that she was grieving and probably interpretated his actions as simple kindness, but he couldn’t help the way his chest seized when she interacted with him of her own accord- a guiding hand on his forearm when he was about to turn in the wrong direction, a quick but joyous hug when they received good news- his brain ate those memories up and played on repeat for him to experience, over and over again in the back of his mind. He was starting to feel like a teenager around her, and it was fuckin’ embarrassing. He was the king of ghouls, not some scared teen attracted to the girl next door. She was far from that type of lady anyways, hard to picture the woman as innocent when he’d seen her take a Raider’s face off with a hunting rifle at point-blank range. “Hancock?” the angel whispered at them from across the campfire. He immediately gave his full attention, not that she’d demanded it.  “Mm?” he made a noise in reply, and her smile washed over him like a sunrise, beautiful and life-giving. He’d bask in her glow for an eternity if she would only let him.  “Do you think the Greentop Nursery folks will be okay? I’m worried the turrets won’t be enough.” She confessed, patting the ground next to her to search for her cigarette carton and flip-lighter. He almost felt amused at her line of questioning, he was sure that those people were safer than the dickheads in Diamond City with how many defences she’d created and repaired when they visited. “Between the turrets and the traps ya’ set up? More than okay. We’re not too far from ‘em though, could always check in tomorrow.” He offered, and she seemed to turn his suggestion over in her mind as she lit the cigarette, and enhaled. “Alright, We’ll check tomorrow- I just wanna make sure the Greenskins stay gone this time, that’s all.” She said, idly glancing at their surroundings, as if the very mention of a Super-Mutant would cause one to come crashing out of the bushes at them, Mini-Nuke in hand. He stared at her for a moment too long, and she gestured at her face. “Something there?” She rubbed at her cheeks, paranoid for dust marks or otherwise. He laughed, shaking his head.” No, but if there was i’d probably just let it sit, see how long it took ya’ to notice.” She rolled her eyes at him, throwing a rock at him, which just bounced off the tree he was sat near, and settled by a puddle on the floor. “Nice, real nice. What if ya’ took me eye out? What then? I’d be a one-eyed ghoul and it’d be your fault.” He sniffed, playfully. She actually considered the prospect, and grinned as she puffed at her cigarette. “I’d lead you around, tell everyone you lost your eye trying to chat up a Deathclaw.” She mused, exhaling some smoke, and he snorted. “Ya’d still lead me around though, feel like I win there.” He pointed out, and she grunted in reply. He grinned, he loved that noise. It was an old-man habit she had, unable to admit she was wrong, but not proud enough to dismiss him completely. He fished around in his pocket for his Berry Mentats, and pilfered two for himself, throwing them back like they were shots of whiskey. She spotted the box, and sweetly batted her eyelashes at him, silently asking for some. He rose a (long-gone) brow, and held the box up in the light the fire provided, so they could both see the faded design. “Ya’ want some of these? I dunno..” He pretended to be all beat up about her asking, masquerading as a ghoul who truly cared about his chem supply. “I just feel like keepin’ ‘em all too myself.” He continued, eyes trailing to hers to see what she would do with his defiance. She processed the moment, and a playful expression touched her features.  She suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs, pointing over his shoulder with a terrified face, and to her credit, it startled him enough for him to turn and look. She scrambled forward, hand shooting out to take the Mentats from him, but he was faster- leaning back and holding them up and out of reach, arching away from her. “I’ve been around too long for that to work on me, nice try though.” He taunted, waving the packet around. She huffed, but quickly went in for another attack. Hancock felt himself involuntarily gasp when Sole launched herself at him with such force that it sent both of them toppling to the ground, her arms coming to pin his forearms to the floor, causing his tricorn hat to fly off, abandoned next to them on the floor. He was vaguely aware of the way her legs straddled his stomach, but he couldn’t even form thoughts to react, especially when a smile so wolfish and greedy eclipsed her that it had his brain factory reset. He was too close to her, the fire illuminated her in a warm and inviting glow, she was so close he could count her eyelashes if he wanted too, and oh how he wanted. He wanted to know everything about her, wanted to know what made her smile when she felt down, wanted to know what made her mad; how he could make her happy again. “I’ve been alive for over two-hundred years, John. Nothing works on me, either.” She taunted him, proud at their role reversal. All he could do was watch, wide-eyed as she shifted her weight, easily grabbing the box of Mentats from him (like he’d ever put up a fight). She tipped one out into her hand, and dropped it into the back of her throat, swallowing her ‘stolen’ chems with a slight grimace at the taste. Hancock was sure this was as close as he’d ever get to heaven, watching her felt like observing a miracle up close. He watched in a trance as her attention finally turned back to him, completely enraptured by her movements. He watched as she analysed him, and she opened her mouth to talk to him, but whatever it was that she wanted to say slipped away as her pupils expanded, eating away at her irises until they were tiny slivers, pupils gorging themselves on any light that strayed too close. She shuddered, allowing the chem to sink into her. This felt holy, her grace flooding him. He felt naked, stripped bare of his corporal form, for her to view all of his sins underneath her. It was too much, too fast. His brain reeled at her perfume; tones of amber and sandalwood, and his body reacted before his brain had chance to sign off on the idea. In true John Hancock fashion, he told her the one thing he absolutely shouldn’t have.  “I might be in love with you.” he stumbled out, and he froze when his thought process caught up with the rest of his body, gasping and furious about being left out of the decision, waving a shiv at him. She stared at him in silence, processing his words, and he sucked in a breath when she didn’t back away from him, but instead increased the amount of weight she was using to lean on him. He was pinned underneath her now, not that he could consider moving- the gaze she fixed him with was intense, he felt like he could set ablaze any minute if she willed it.  “You’re either in love with me, or you aren’t. You don’t maybe love someone.” Her words burned his ears, and he trembled as his brain, riddled with Mentats, tried to summon a response. “I do love you.” He managed, heart beating in his ears. She leaned closer to him, absorbing his amended confession with a furrow of her brow. “Tell me again.” She demanded quietly, and John experienced her in a way she’d never allowed before. Her face was flushed, revealing her excitement- her eyes held a far-away desperation, a need to feel wanted, to feel loved. Hancock didn’t give a shit if anyone overhead him, he held her gaze as he told her again.  “I love you.” She didn’t ask, but he continued to repeat the words to her like they were a prayer, and each time he said them, she got a little closer, a little more relaxed by his devotion to her. He would become a martyr for her cause, no matter the personal cost. She finally closed the gap, and they shared a kiss. It was a little rough, the Mentats in both of their systems meant they couldn’t afford the same grace they’d have sober. She pulled away, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and her lips remained there for a moment to whisper to him.  “Love me, John. Love me for as long as you can.”  

[werewolfhooligan]

Hear Me Out

[chocmoon-latte]

Another reason why I think Hancock would have a crush on the Sole Survivor besides the obvious fact that you're out here helping the people of the Commonwealth, or how he thought you were an innocent vault dweller who needed protecting, is the fact that he's finally got someone he can be emotionally vulnerable with. Being the mayor of such a dangerous place like Goodneighbor means he needs to keep up a reputation to match it. There's no room for him to be soft or emotional in a place like this.

He's happy when strangers know who he is for having reputation that precedes him for being deadly because it eliminates any chances of someone out there possibly getting the idea that he might actually have a sweeter, more caring side. That's one of the main reasons why he even killed Finn in the first place. But he WANTS to be able to express softness. The problem is just that Goodneighbor isn't the place to do it, and a lot of the kinds of people you find in the Commonwealth in general aren't really the greatest types to be emotionally open towards anyways. In a world like this, it's something that could very easily be held against him.

He tells you that it's lonely being mayor and that he's running out on the good things and people he's got. He tells you that he's always been the one telling others to keep the emotion out of relationships in the past, but here he is being open and emotional with you. He says that everyone is entitled to some softness, himself included… but after he opens up to you about running out on the good things in his life, he asks you not to tell anyone else. Not necessarily because of the fact that it's personal, but because of the fact that he's afraid of word spreading around about this more emotionally vulnerable side of him and that people will think he's crazy for it (and as a side note, let's be honest, we've all seen how society on a larger scale views emotionally vulnerable men as weak).

A lot (not all) of his contradicting ideals when you first meet him make so much more sense when you look at him through the lens of a man desperately trying to conceal and repress the more sensitive side to him. The way he just lets you get away with so much during The Big Dig questline, even if you take your time to do every little thing against him. It's obvious that he doesn't really care all too much about punishing you - he just likes knowing he still has the power to make people frantically scramble to please him, because it helps uphold his reputation.

If there's one thing Hancock hates being more than anything, it's being powerless and weak. His biggest traumas come from how he was unable to protect the ghouls in Diamond City from being exiled or protect the drifters in Goodneighbor from being abused by Vic. If people in the Commonwealth knew there was a softer side to him, a large majority of the more dangerous organizations, especially the ones operating in his town, would consider him weak. If Hancock was considered a weak leader, then he wouldn't be considered fit to protect the innocent people that he so sworn to protect.

It's always baffled everyone how Hancock doesn't show any sadness when it comes to the death of Fahrenheit or finding out his brother was replaced by a synth and killed years prior, but I'm starting to wonder if we've been looking at it the wrong way this entire time. Maybe Hancock's lack of being visibly upset over them had nothing to do with Bethesda making poor writing decisions (they kind of do tbh), but had everything to do with him repressing his emotions.

So when he gets to travel with YOU the player, who has no prior knowledge of him, his reputation or past (and you aren't just another citizen he has to put on a show for) he feels like he can let his walls down around you. He's allowed to be emotionally vulnerable because he doesn't have to pretend to BE someone for you, and in turn, he feels like he doesn't have to run anymore.

(That was a lot sorry but I tend to get my thoughts out better in the form of long ramblings. Honestly there's so many ways he can be interpreted though, but I guess this is just somewhat of an analysis/me theorizing a little)

[fallout-fucker]

Random Headcanon: Hancock screams that he was 100% a hooligan in his teens/twenties. I can just imagine that he was a rebellious teen/young adult that found a old, worn acoustic guitar and learned how to play/sing. He stopped eventually, probably around when he got to Goodneighbour because of the state it was in with Vic. By the time he became Mayor himself and became a ghoul, he was hesitant to ever go back to playing because he was scared of what he would sound like as a ghoul and how his vocal chords could've been affected. He softly sings to himself now and again but has yet to fully go back.

Bonus: Sole catches him singing one time and is over the moon, stating they wish he did it more because he has a great voice (His 'new voice' is as good as his old one, just raspier. A little rusty after a few years without practice, but still pleasant). After that he starts playing/singing again.

[slocumjoe]

I try to not shame people for the characters they like, I mean, I like Maxson for fucks sake, ive got no room to talk, but i seriously don't get the fascination with Pickman? I've seen a surprising amount of fanart and fic with them. Oc ship stuff. Why? He's a generic "welcome...to my dark mind" joker dude. He's not even a good reference to Lovecraft. Pickman is just some dude who makes abstract art with blood and neon yellow paint. I would disregard him as a simple npc but people like this dude. A lot. Why??? He's a dude in a suit and he kills people? Is that your standard. Is that all it takes for you

[rimmerslustmonster]

all the posts about fucking the ghoul or hancock from fallout bother me because the punchline is always 'that's what RadAway is for' and it's like, just use Rad-X! prevention is better than a cure! what are you doing!

[pistolpackinmommy]

Don’t you just love those moments where a fandom unanimously agrees on a very particular headcanon about a character?

Like pretty much everybody agrees pre-ghoul John had blond hair

My only thing though is this… I feel he had big beautiful brown eyes instead of the baby blues everyone agrees on

idk why I felt the need to share this. honestly it’s just been a rough couple…several months now and I miss this site and playing all the games and writing and 😢

[gayforcarstairsgirls]

I'm just so... when a politician is going on a reality TV show (in the jungle) to prove to the public that he's a real authentic person, that's when you know there's something wrong with your political system

[xamaxenta]

Marco has hollow bones as his devil fruit drawback as per @liferockingitout (check out their fantastic ongoing series “hurts being this beautiful”)

I want to say Ace’s draw back is total combustion and accidentally burning up himself as the fuel, he can’t go too hot or his bones and muscles overheat and he get’s all feverish and sick cuz he’s burning up from the inside

[finncakes]

hehe

[whatanightmaregrinch]

John Hancock x (Fem)Sole Survivor- "thought I'd lost you"

[[TW: light gore]]

John Hancock didn't find himself afraid often. In fact, he prided himself on his ability to keep his cool, even in shitty scenarios. No matter what came his way, he always knew how to act. Got himself out of some pretty sticky situations with that talent too. He considered himself a ghoul of many tricks, and that's why he felt out of options when he saw Sole limp through the gates of his great city, supported by one of the Goodneighbor guards. He practically lunged forward off of the bench he'd sat down on to huff jet, and stormed towards them. His heart started slamming in his ribcage when he saw blood dribble from her pretty fucking mouth and down her chin, the way they locked eyes but Sole wasn't even there. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, bringing the guard down with her under the weight of her nearly destroyed power armour. The guard started shouting, gaining the attention of some drifters, who started clamouring toward them to help. He barely had room to feel pride for his citizens banding together to help their fellow man. John dragged Sole off of the guard with some effort, the guard managing to wheeze out a thanks and rolling to the side, and he felt sick as he removed his hands from her and saw her blood sticking to his hands. He didn't hear himself shout for Doctor Amari, didn't even process himself desperately trying to rip her out of her power armour to assess the damage. He glanced at her face, pale and sweaty. She looked dead, and it terrified him.

"Hey Sunshine? I need you to listen to me." He said shakily, finally managing to crack the broken breast plate away from her, and he sucked in a breath.

Her dirty white shirt was stained with her own blood, but he could see where the material had ripped, and the evil glint of metal deep in the wound that had caused it. Someone's hands went to remove her shirt for him to see better, and he smacked their hand away so hard they yelped in surprise.

"Fuck are you doing, idiot? We can't get her wound out here it'll get fuckin' dust in, use your godamn mind!" Some part of him wanted to protect her dignity. Not that he wouldn't want to see her, he just wanted her permission and not to be covered in blood and surrounded by god knows how many pairs of eyes. Unless that was what she wanted, of course.

"I got the Doc!" A male voice slurred, but Hancock couldn't even spare attention for him. He couldn't stop staring at her fucking face. He was glad other people were there to help take the rest of her power armour off because he was being fucking useless right now. A familiar hand pushed him out of the way, and he realised he was in Amari's way. He scrambled back, but stopped when the doctor shot him a glare.

"Where are you going John? Help me carry her." She snapped, but not unkindly. She recognised the fear in his black eyes, but she didn't have the time to soothe him. She wasn't even sure how she was going to help Sole yet, she was a scientist, not a medic and she figured her best bet would be to take her patient to Daisy and see if they could come up with something. She had basic medical training, but when it had nothing to do with human, ghoul or synth brain, she was out of ideas. She moved around to Soles head and arms, and directed John to her legs and feet. He wrapped his arms around her legs ready whilst Amari told two others how best to support Sole on the torso so it wouldn't dip. She told another to send word to Daisy of their arrival with the promise of caps for what they needed and use of her space.

"On three."Doctor Amari commanded, and on three, they all pulled her up into the air as flat as they could. Sole made a horrible groaning noise, and Hancock could see her eyes opening and closing as she struggled with consciousness.

"We're gonna fix you right up, don't you worry. Try and stay awake." John tried her as they all staggered quickly towards Daisy's shop, her only making noises of pain in reply. He didn't understand how she even managed to get back to the gates, let alone inside the city.

Daisy was ready for them. Just like him, Sole had touched her heart in ways she'd prefer not to talk about, and seeing her in this state shocked her. Daisy mentioned once that she reminded her of her days before the war,of picket fences, green grass and blue skies. Not that John could picture what that was like.

Daisy had a table upstairs cleaned off, and they set her down as gently as they could. John pulled his coat off and folded it, shoving it under her head so she had support. He stood against the wall, so the two women could work. He'd only pace around and get in the way if he didn't. Daisy had rifled through and brought up all the supplies she could think of that they might need, and a bucket with boiling water to kill the germs as best they could.

He stayed whilst they cleaned her up with the limited alcohol they had, but John decided to leave the room when they set about pulling out the blade. He wasn't usually squeamish, but his heart couldn't take it this time around. He couldn't let himself feel the sadness in his bones, couldn't let himself think about the large possibility that Sole might die there on that table, and he'd have to bury another person he loved. He wandered downstairs, and out the closed shop front to sit down on the bench outside. He dug around in his pockets for a cigarette, finding one but tutting when he realised he didn't have a light. He looked around to see if he could bum a light from someone, but the street had emptied not ten minutes after. Events like that tended to spook people, and well, a nice gal like that in the kinda state she was in was bound to pull on some heartstrings. He didn't regret giving her his coat, but he regretted not shaking his metal plated lighter and jet from his pocket. He could have ran home to get some, but he didn't want to be too far away from her.

Many times had John Hancock fallen in love. They were short and fleeting circumstances, but he valued them. Well, as much as a ghoul fucked out of his skull could, anyway. He valued the sex less. He had alot of it in his time, and whilst he partook in it often, he didn't tend to talk to them after, or make them breakfast, or any of that shit. Usually by the time he woke up from his drug fuelled bender they were gone, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness and unfufillment. Sole had taken his usual routine and shook it around. He was willing to follow her across the wastelands forever if that was what she wanted. And now she was laid out on a table dying. He might never get to ask her how she felt about him, how she felt about sharing her life with him, or even find her fucking son. He wouldn't admit it, but he cried. He cried for a long time, and as the dusky evening turned to night, he remained frozen on the bench, cigarette abandoned next to him.

He didn't realise Amari's figure come out to him at first, his eyes too adjusted to the gloom to pick the white of her coat. He wanted to throw up when he made out the detail of Sole's blood decorating her sleeves. He didn't want to hear the news he knew to be true. Doctor Amari sat down next to him on the bench, and sighed aloud. She grabbed a cigarette, lit it with her lighter and offered the pack and light to him, which he didn't accept. Just started at her, almost angry she couldn't deliver the news first. Did she mean that little to her?

"Oh you, she's alive. Horribly wounded, but.. alive." Amari said, and wordlessly Hancock took the cigarette and lighter offered to him. Taking a puff of his lit cigarette, he sighed, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders for the first time in hours.

"How bad was it?" He found the courage to ask, and Amari made this unpleasant sound that he didn't want to hear from her again.

"Whoever did that to her got her good. I'm thinking her power armour must have been really badly damaged already for the knife to get her like that. Daisy and I managed to stop the bleeding, but she'll have a nasty scar, that's to say if infection doesn't take her first." Amari's words stung John back to his reality. They weren't out of the fog yet. He took an extra long drag of the cigarette and exhaled.

"Don't really know what to do." Hancock admitted to her. She looked at him with a thoughtful gaze. "I assumed you'd be rushing inside by now to see her, if I'm honest. Why are you still sat with me?" She probed. His scarred face set into a frown.

"I don't want to see her like that if she's gonna-"

"How selfish, John. What of her? Do you think she deserves to be ignored like this?" She snapped, cutting him off. "Daisy and I were busy saving her life, and the moments she was lucid between shots, all she wanted to know was where you were." She jabbed a finger into his chest. Her words stung, even if she was right. Hurt his pride in a way he didn't want to admit. He just looked down, and Doctor Amari tutted, stabbing her cigarette out angrily on the benches arm rest. "If she lives, all she'll remember is you refusing to see her." She finalised, and stood. Brushing the mess from her thighs, she didn't even bother to collect her lighter and cigarette carton back as she went striding off into the darkness, probably back to her home. He thought about calling out to her, but she'd disappeared into the shadows before he had chance. He took it as good fortune, and pocketed the lighter and packet. He faltered as he wondered what to do next.

He looked up at the top window above Daisy's shop. The faint glow to it seemed inviting, but he was filled with regret. He couldn't be what she needed from him right now, he couldn't be the good man she needed. Compared to Nate, he was nothing. He didn't even have eyebrows. He grunted at the thought, and stood to go back to the Old State House. A quiet voice suddenly spoke up within him, urging him to remember something he'd long forgotten. A memory played out before him, he wasn't sure whether the jet and daytripper he'd taken during the day were reacting with eachother, but it spoke to him, reminding him of something that if he was right about and he'd forgotten he swore he'd cut his own brain out.

Sole was laid on a dirty double mattress next to him. He strained to remember more of the scene, but it started to come together. They'd been travelling back from a settlement not too far from Goodnighbour when the radiation storm had swarmed them so fast they'd barely time to duck into a semi suitable house. They retreated to the basement and found a singular double mattress in there and no open windows that could let the storm in, so they decided to camp for the night. Radiation didn't bother him, but Sole was smooth skinned and she didn't have enough fusion cores left to make the journey back. They were back to back, facing away. He had no qualms about sleeping face to face, but her pre-war sensibilities were apparent in the quieter moments.

"Hancock?" She said in a tired voice. "Hmm?" He mumbled. He remembered taking a puff of jet then, and he crinkled his nose. Why was he always so fuckin high all the time? "..is it hard, being a mayor?" She wondered, and he snorted as he coughed the chem out of his lungs. "Sure as brahmin shit, girl. Makes me do all kinds of uncomfy shit I'm not exactly happy about." He admitted. He tried to fight off the suprise when he felt her shift around in the mattress, to face his back. He moved to copy her, but her hands suddenly pressed against his shoulders, trapping him to facing away from her. "Dont turn over." She said softly, and he chuckled. "Whatever you want, sister." He slurred. He felt her hands tense on his back. "You shouldn't call me that." She said, and he furrowed his brow line in confusion. "Why not? Don't ya like it?" He replied, and she was silent for about a minute. He waited for her to gather her thoughts. "It just, makes me think we're related, that's all. I don't want to be related to you." She said stiffly, and he felt a little hurt. "What's wrong with being related to me?" He huffed out, chest jutting out a little. He was glad she wasn't allowing him to turn round. What she said was so quiet he wasnt sure he'd heard it right. " We can't be romantically involved." She grunted, and withdrew her hands from his back, and returned to her original position, back to back with him. He stared in silence for a long time at the crack in the wall directly opposite of him, listening to the sound of the lightning that stormed on a level above them.

He nearly killed himself right there for taking so much jet he'd basically ignored her unasked question, and had never brought it up to her again. What if she was testing the waters? What if he was supposed to respond then, confirm or deny his feelings for her? He groaned , and spun around on his heel. He needed to see her, needed to talk to her and get it all out, even if it was the only reason that selfishly drove him up those stairs. He couldn't decide for her, it was wrong. But she deserved atleast an explanation. Daisy cast him a glance as he walked past her, cleaning her counter. She wanted to say something to him, but it could wait. He clambered the stairs, and cringed as he saw the table where she lay so lifelessly hours before, now covered in her blood but empty. He spotted her laid out on the sofa in the darker corner of the room, his coat gently draped over her as a blanket, but she'd pushed it down at some point in her sleep. He took note that they'd changed her into a different, less traumatic t-shirt for her to wake up in, rather than her ripped one. He couldn't ignore the bandages poking out from under it, though. A sigh brought him out of his thoughts, and he saw she was sleeping. He came and sat beside her on the floor, and feeling his heart speed up just slightly. She was sleeping, a stab wound victim, and he found her enchanting, even in this state.

"You really scared me." He spoke softly to avoid disturbing her. When he heard no change from her, he continued. "I saw you on the floor and I thought you were dead. It really made me stop, and a ghoul like me doesn't stop for much." He lent back into the sofa, removing the hat from his head. "I figured love was off the plate for you, after you told me what happened with Nate. I couldn't blame you if you did, you know. But I didn't mean to ignore you, that night." He said quietly. " -'was just shocked, is all. You gotta understand a gal like you saying something like that to me rocked me, I mean look at you. You look like all them pretty gals from the movie posters." He mused, looking down at his own scarred hands in a silent comparison. He didn't find himself ugly, but he certainly wasn't normal. Didn't look normal in areas you wanted to look normal, either. "I felt at peace with you. I feel at peace with you." He corrected, and cast her sleeping face a glance, to find her eyes open and staring at him with a curious intensity instead. He was afraid, and she didnt say anything. She winced in immense pain, but made an effort to reach out a trembly hand and cup his cheek. He softened at the realization it wasn't rejection, but exhaustion that caused her silence. It wasnt like she was in any state to talk. Her thumb caressed the ridges on the left side of his face. He sighed into the touch, feeling it spread warmth into his cheeks, into his neck and down into his chest. He didn't expect declarations of love from her, it was too soon for that. But for now, he could allow himself to enjoy this. To enjoy being with her.

"Don't leave me." Her voice came out broken, and hoarse. He covered her hand on his face with her own, and squeezed gently. "Couldn't, not after this." He murmured, and she smiled. He loved that smile, and he hoped that she would smile at him like that forever. He wanted to serve and protect that smile, and he promised himself in that moment that he would find whoever had laid her out like this and make them wish they were having a fucking nightmare.

[veshialles]

Somewhere, beyond the Sea...

[click for full resolution]

[yourpaceangel]

Synth children got me fucked up

[fallout-fucker]

Hancock Headcanons (Including Goodneighbour Headcanons) Part One

Surprisingly a really good cook/baker. Will make 5 Star quality full-course meals when high as fuck. Or at least, as good as you can get in the Wasteland if you don't think mutated Brahmin tastes too different from cow. Man's is making steaks.

He also mass bakes when very stressed. There's been times Fahrenheit has walked into the office and seen the kitchenette, the coffee table, any and all of the free surfaces, really, full of trays of baked goodies. Cupcakes, cookies, brownies, special brownies, you name it. When this happens, Daisy has to organise a massive order to traders to make up for all the ingredients he buys. He always gives her extra caps for the inconvenience of Goodneighbour having less eggs and flour, etc, for sale than usual. He makes sure to never take all the stock, though, food's hard enough to come by, especially produce. His town needs it more than he and his baking sessions do.

He always gives away the goods when he's finally calmed down and the stress has eased.

He takes care in making sure the normal goodies are separate from the 'more fun' ones.

The normal goods go to the townsfolk and drifters. He goes to the kids first, though. If it's during the colder months, he'll also take the time to make hot chocolates or warm milk (Depending on what's available) for them.

Actually does his job as the fucking Mayor.

Makes sure the kids have all got blankets, coats, hats, scalves, gloves, socks and shoes, and beds somewhere warm.

He regularly checks this. Has a little checklist for all the items kiddies need. He isn't letting any kids die in his streets. As far as he's concerned, those are his kids. He knows Goodneighbour isn't exactly the most PG place, but the majority of children in Goodneighbour (Like most people in Goodneighbour) don't have parents or anybody.

He'll leave a few trays on the bar of The Third Rail for pickings. Lowkey likes to decorate it with cake stands and stuff. Makes him feel weirdly calm. He gets to just take his time with it. It's a breather from the rest of his 'Mayoral Duties'.

If he's feeling generous, he'll give away the fun goodies too to anyone that wants 'em (Within reason). But Chems and produce can be pricey so he'll sometimes give those to Daisy to sell so he's not wasting a good amount of his personal stash, especially if he made a lot of goods.

He considered giving them to Charlie at first because The Third Rail is nothing if not the place for a great time, but many people who wander into Goodneighbour are vulnerable. From experience (Both personal and second-hand), Hancock knows alcohol + easily accessible edibles/hard chems + vulnerable and desperate doesn't equal anything good. So, he decided against it.

He refuses to give them to AJ because the guy is sketchy, and he's heard about the whole 'Chems For Kids' thing. Hancock's been working discreetly on solving that issue. If he wasn't keen on drunk adults having access to edibles, you can believe he'd have a real problem with anyone tryna sneak it to kids, let alone that kinda dirty money making its way back to him, and that's if AJ didn't sneak some into his own pockets. Which he likely would.

So, that brought him to Daisy. Besides, it also makes up for the ingredients and he lets her pocket a good percentage of the profit as chems isn't usually her deal.

Once more, actually does his job as the fucking Mayor.

Like with the children, he makes sure drifters and such also have warm clothes for the Winter.

Also ensures everyone has clothes suited for Summer heat, too.

Essentially, twice a year (Autumn and Spring) he'll go around Goodneighbour with a survey to see who needs what, at least a few weeks in advance of when the seasonal weather for Autumn/Winter and Spring/Summer usually rolls in. Then, he organises a mass order to all of the trading caravans for suitable clothes, shoes, etc. Then he'll organise a day with timeslots and stuff where groups of people can go up to his office and get what they need.

Imagine a watchman at the entrance of the Statehouse, with a name list and time slots, and a queue outside of the door. In Hancock's office, it's full of cardboard boxes and tables. Him, Far, Daisy, and a few watchmen all giving out the items and checking them off.

Hancock has plans and blueprints to expand Goodneighbour so some of the apartment buildings just outside of the walls can be included in the town. Has a few trading deals on hold and watchmen guards he could use as contractors in mind for the job of converting the Pre-War buildings into livable homes when he is able to.

Unfortunately, with the Warehouse rats and Supermutants settling down just outside the gates, he had to postpone the plans to focus on other issues. All his contractors had to stay as Neighbourhood Watch guards and security just in case the mutants attack. The mutants are on his to-do list, but first is the Warehouse job and making sure people can stay warm in the attic instead of the homes he was hoping to have done before Autumn and Winter.

He predicted temporarily losing more workers in the Winter due to sickness, but didn't necessarily expect some to be rats, unfortunately. So, his options are limited when Sole meets him. Hence sending a stranger to Pickman Gallery and other things.

It's also why he doesn't mind traveling with Sole. Until Spring, his hands are mostly tied when it comes to progress.

Staying in town when he knows he can't do all of the things he needs to makes him antsy. He doesn't like sitting around and doing nothing when he knows his people are relying on him, so it helps to get away from it for a while.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Absolutely love the idea of hancock and danse sleeping together at one point

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Every time my brain comes up with a story idea that doesn't involve me doing some serious mental gymnastics to get it to work I have no motivation to bother.