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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years

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Companions React: Holding hands with Sole for the first time.

Request: "Hey I took a look at your other two stories and they're really good :D I can't wait to see more from you. ☺️ Could you do how the companions react to holding hands with sole for the first time? And could you make it extra fluffy for x6-88, preston, and hancock please? ❤️"

CW: Food mentions. Idk why so many of these involved food.

Cait:

“Hey! Watch it, will ya’?” Cait shouted indignantly at a passing trader as their Brahmin nearly knocked her over.

Sole reached out and pulled her back swiftly, her hand gripped tightly in theirs to help her keep balance. “Careful. They don’t tend to share the road around here. Important people, traders.” They joked, threading their fingers through hers.

“Important my arse.” Cait glared menacingly after the trader before redirecting their attention. “And what do ya think you’re doin’?” She lifted their joined hands, however she didn’t let go.

“Oh, sorry! I just wanted to make sure you didn’t lose your balance.”

Sole began to loosen their grip, but Cait tightened her grip in return. “Well don’t go gettin’ cold feet on me now. You started this.”

Sole very politely ignored the slight flush on her cheeks as she began to pull them towards the food stands. “You’re buyin’ in exchange for my lovely company.”

Curie:

While it could be quite cute, Curie’s habit of wandering off in the name of scientific discovery had resulted in far too many moments of Sole having to stop what they were doing and go search for her and whatever had caught her attention in the moment as soon as they realized she was gone. Luckily, this time, Curie exclaimed, “Oh, mon dieu!”

This caught Sole’s attention and they quickly grasped her hand to keep her from wandering off. “Let’s go let Daisy know we’ve done what she’s asked and then we can go check out the water purification system, okay?”

“Oh! Of course.” Curie smiled warmly, interlocking their fingers properly. “Lead the way!”

After a beat, as they made their way to Daisy’s shop together, Curie spoke again, her tone softer and a shy smile on her face. “I quite like this system of keeping track of each other, I think.”

“I do, too. Do you want to stop by Diamond City for Power Noodles after asking about the water purification system?”

“Yes, please! I’d like to ask the vendor about the components to his operation.”

Danse:

Sole groaned, facedown on their bed on the Prydwen. “Let’s get a move on, Soldier. Elder Maxson himself requested you transfer shifts to the first patrol.”

“It’s four in the morning, Paladin. I appreciate Elder Maxson’s faith but I reserve my right to complain when he’s not around.”

Danse frowned from where he was standing in the doorway. “You should consider this an honor.”

“I do, Danse. Of course I do. But four in the morning?” Sole attempted to roll over and stand up, but instead got their legs tangled in the blanket and fell to the floor.

He sighed, staring down at them in mild disappointment. “Would you like assistance getting up?”

“Yes please.”

Danse crossed the room and leaned down, grasping Sole’s outstretched arms and staring sternly at their pouting face. He pulled them up carefully, steadying them when they stumbled as they untangled themself from their blanket. “You slept in your uniform.” He stated plainly.

“I had to wake up at four as it is. I’m doing what I can. Adapt, right? I’m following your advice, Paladin. Now let’s go get breakfast, please, I’m starving.”

The pair made it halfway down the hall before Danse realized that Sole had never released their grip on his hand. His face flushed beet red as they led the way to the dining hall, the pathways empty. They seemed to be the only ones awake. “Soldier-” He coughed awkwardly. “-your hand?”

Sole slowed down and glanced at him. “Do you mind?”

He paused. “Proceed.” He said in a low tone, avoiding eye contact.

Deacon:

Deacon was quiet. Deacon was never quiet, unless they were in the middle of a fight, and even then usually he was making witty comments in between gunshots. He and Sole were trekking across the Commonwealth, headed to Sanctuary to rest after running to hell and back for the Railroad. “Alright, Deacon. What gives?” Sole stopped and turned to him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet.”

“I’ll have you know I make a great brooding, mysterious stranger.” Deacon gave them an indignant look.

“Yeah, when you’re undercover maybe. But not with me. So what’s up?”

Deacon sighed and gave in, surprising Sole. Usually, no matter how long they pushed, he remained steeled in his self-confidence and energetic personality. “Just a long day, Boss. Don’t worry about it.” He started walking, letting them know the conversation was over with.

Sole pressed their lips together briefly before jogging to catch up with him and grabbing his hand, swinging it dramatically between the two. Deacon laughed quietly and allowed them to continue their antics. “You know, if you wanted to hold my hand you could’ve just asked, Boss.”

Cheerfully, Sole bumped their shoulder against his. “Where’s the fun in that? Plus, I got you to laugh, didn’t I?”

Deacon groaned. “My facade, it’s shattered!” He cried dramatically as he pretended to stumble. Sole threw their head back and laughed, and Deacon hid his grin.

“This is a very serious issue, Boss, I can’t believe your lack of professionalism.”

“Oh, of course, I’m so very sorry Deacon. Let me know what we can do to solve this issue and I’ll let go of your hand. To keep up professionalism.”

Deacon never got back to them on that, and kept his fingers threaded through theirs the entire way back to Sanctuary.

Gage:

“Look, I’m all for your gung ho attitude of dealing with things, but we’re outnumbered by those things. As much as it hurts to say, we shouldn’t run in guns ablaze.” Gage muttered under his breath.

He and Sole were crouched against a wall in the Nuka World Bottling Plant, up to their waists in diluted soda that had definitely been there way too long. A good handful of Mirelurks had nested just around the corner; Sole could hear them clicking their pinchers together. “You’re right.” Sole sighed. “We need a plan to get back to the exit.”

Gage was still surprised every time the Overboss took his advice seriously. “We’re cornered here, Boss. Unless you have some Stealth Boys on you-”

“Do you trust me?” Sole interjected.

“Christ, I guess so. What’re you thinkin’?”

“When I count to three we run.”

“What? That’s your fuckin’ plan?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I swear to God, if you get us killed.” Gage muttered. “Alright, fine.”

Sole counted under their breath, just loud enough for Gage to hear, as they attempted to avoid the echo that the large tunnels would cause. As soon as they reached three, both they and Gage took off in a sprint, fighting against the soda-water that threatened to slow them down. Things were going great until Gage’s foot caught against something under the water and sent him face first into the river.

As soon as he hit the water he was back up again, Sole yanking him as hard as possible up and forward at their breakneck pace. “I’ve got you!” They shouted over the angry screeches from the Mirelurks that had just caught sight of them.

Sole grappled at his hand until they found purchase and kept charging forward. They sent a shot towards an approaching Mirelurk and the bullet lodged firmly in the Mirelurk’s body. This bought them enough time to get a few feet ahead and after a brief struggle with the sticky door mechanism, the pair launched themself past the frame and slammed the door behind them.

Chests heaving, they leaned against the metal door, eyes squinted to ward off the blazing sun that glared down at them. “I fuckin’ hate this place.” Gage spat saliva and soda down onto the cracked pavement in front of them.

Sole merely laughed. Gage turned to them in astonishment, wondering just how batshit the new Overboss really was, but said nothing, his hand still gripped in theirs. Their eyes were closed as their shoulders shook, their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath. “I do too, to be honest. Hated it ever since that stupid maze.”

Gage paused and let out a small chuckle himself. He shook off their hand as casually as he could, but turned and reached to light a cigarette to hide the way his mouth quirked up in the corner. He dug through the bag attached to his hip before cursing loudly. “My shit’s soaked!”

Sole only laughed louder.

Hancock:

“Y’know, sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Running Goodneighbor.” Hancock’s voice came out gravelly.

He and Sole had found a rooftop to settle on after travelling for the day. They had found a couple of lounge chairs and dragged them up the flights of stairs, and told Hancock to sit while they unpacked enough food for dinner. Luckily, they had traded for a few Radstag steaks, which they had started grilling over a makeshift fire. Hancock’s statement caught their attention enough for them to stop what they were doing. “What do you mean?” They asked.

Hancock wasn’t sure if he was too high for his own good, but he swore their voice was softer when they spoke to him, compared to the assertiveness they used for everyone else. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed them. The fire flickered, a bright, warm contrast to the setting sun behind them. “Dunno. I just worry that I’m gettin’ a little top stern with everyone. Goodneighbor isn’t meant to be another Diamond City.”

They thought for a moment, their eyebrows creased. Hancock couldn’t help the way he smiled as he watched them turn the steaks over contemplatively. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Always, sweetheart.”

Sole suppressed their own smile. “I think a good leader would listen to his people and their opinions. A great leader goes out and gains perspective to truly understand what they go through and where they’re coming from. You do both, so I think that makes you a fantastic leader.” They stood from where they were crouching next to the fire and moved to sit next to him.

The sun crept lower on the horizon. They reached over and took his hand to get his attention, not knowing it was hard for Hancock to focus on anything other than them. “I mean it, Hancock. Really. Not many people these days pay as much attention as you do. The fact that you decided to take a step back to make sure you were doing right by your people proves that.”

“Careful, now, you’ll make me blush with all that flattery.”

They laughed quietly but didn’t respond. As the evening quieted further, the birds no longer chirped but settled into their nests and the sun nearly set, they began to swipe their thumb back and forth over the back of Hancock’s hand. Carefully, they raised their entwined hands and pressed their lips to his knuckles. “You trying to flatter me more?” Hancock kept his tone cautiously flirtatious.

Sure, he flirted with them some. Okay, a lot. But never had he thought they would take him seriously, much less respond in kind. Not that he was complaining. “Is it working?” They asked quietly, their lips brushing against his rough skin as they spoke, looking up at him through their lashes. Jesus Christ, they were gonna be the death of him.

“Dunno yet. Why don’t you keep trying and I’ll get back to you on that.”

Hancock wasn’t sure whether it was the Jet or the grin that spread across their face that made him so lightheaded.

MacCready:

“Relax, Mac. We’re just a couple of Settlers.” Sole said quietly, their tone soothing.

They had insisted on doing a bit of recon on the Gunners once they had gotten intel that they were coming to Diamond City for supplies. Mac was positive they were going to be called out at any moment. After all, the Gunners had probably put word out to all of their factions that he was on their watchlist.

Sole had given him completely different clothes, mussed up his hair, and provided a bandana to hide most of his face in order for him to blend in. Lucky for them, there had been a nasty dust storm just yesterday and they weren’t the only ones hiding their faces. They had seated themselves at Power Noodles and begun watching for the Gunners.

As soon as they arrived Mac tensed. He wasn’t one for acting, that was Deacon’s job from what he’d heard, and knowing that people who were out for his blood were so close had him on edge. A few minutes passed as a pair of Gunners made their way to the counter and ordered before sitting and chatting. Sole kept their eyes on MacCready, but it was obvious to him their attention was directed to the conversation taking place behind them.

It was clear to them MacCready wasn’t gonna last much longer, and they didn’t blame him. They’d heard stories about the Gunners and what they were willing to do to get their way. His body language was becoming more and more obvious the longer they sat there before Sole snapped their attention back to him and nodded. It was time to go, they got what they wanted. They slid off their stool casually and slid their hand into Mac’s to get his attention.

He flushed under his bandana but followed suit, hopping off his stool and allowing them to lead him towards the back of the stands. Their hands were distractingly soft and as the distance between them and the Gunners grew he felt himself relax a bit more. They stopped him once they had reached the stands and no one was in sight.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet and Sole squeezed his hand sympathetically.

MacCready felt himself blush again and squeezed their hand back before letting go. “Uh- I. Thanks. For that.” He looked away from them and scratched the back of his neck.

“Anytime, Mac.”

‘Do you mean that?’ He almost asked, biting his tongue to stop himself. It was just to blend in and get him away from the Gunners. Right?

Nick:

It was nearly midnight and Nick, not needing sleep, was still filling out paperwork. Sole had insisted they were going to stay up with him to help, but they were obviously nodding off to his left. He sighed and set down his pencil, turning towards them. “You know you can go rest.” He had repeated this about ten times already that night.

Sole’s voice was groggy when they replied, “No, I said I would help.”

Nick stood from his chair and gathered a few files. He knew the only way they would go to bed is if he dragged them there himself and implied that he was done working for the night. “Look, you can head to bed, I’m going to put these where they belong and then go read.”

Sole cracked one of their eyes open and then shook their head. They pressed their fingertips to their eyes before blinking rapidly and picking up their pencil, beginning to reread what they had written so far. Nick held out his hand over their paper, directly in their line of sight. “Go to bed, Sole. You can barely stay awake.”

Grumbling to themself, Sole took his hand and allowed him to help them up. He led their stumbling figure to their bed, which he had gotten specifically for nights like this. He kept their hand in his to help them balance as they reached down and tugged their shoes off, then plopped down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. Their voice was quiet when they asked, “Stay? I-” They stopped themselves from explaining.

It had been a brutal week and they’d had a few close calls. It dawned on him. Of course they didn’t want to sleep; they didn’t want to be alone. Nick nodded and didn’t let go of their hand as they laid back and he settled into the armchair beside their bed. Their breaths evened out swiftly and he settled the stack of files in his lap, returning to fill out the files with his available hand.

Piper:

“Knock knock!” Sole called into the Publick Occurrences building as they stepped in.

Nat leapt up from where she and Piper were sitting on the couch and barreled into Sole, flinging her arms around their waist. “Hey Nat.” They laughed, hugging her tightly.

“Hey Sole, what brings you to our part of the Commonwealth? Picking up some goods from Myrna?” Piper got up from the couch, moving to greet her friend.

“You didn’t tell her?” They asked Nat.

Nat shook her head sheepishly. “Ask me what?” Piper’s tone grew suspicious.

“I was gonna take her for lunch and told her to ask you if it was alright.”

Piper raised an eyebrow at Nat. “I forgot.” She muttered, gaze directed at the floor.

“Tell you what. Let’s all go, I’ll buy. It gives you a chance to take a break from editing, Piper.”

Piper found it hard to say no in face of Sole’s easygoing grin. She nodded her assent and slipped her shoes on, watching as Sole helped Piper into her coat, fondness overtaking her stern expression. “Are we ready?” They asked cheerfully.

“Looks like it. Nat, hold Sole’s hand for safety, okay? There’s been a lot of new traders coming in and we don’t need you getting lost.”

“What about you?” Sole asked jokingly. “I’d better hold onto you, too, I’d hate to lose you.”

Piper stammered, suddenly finding interest in the dirt on her boots. “Oh. Uh- yeah. I mean- yeah, that’s fine. Sure.”

Sole’s grin grew as they headed out. As soon as the door was locked behind them, they took Piper’s hand and the trio made their way across Diamond City for their meal. Piper never really got her ability to form sentences back while her hand was in Sole’s. Safely.

Preston:

“Where are we headed, General?” Preston asked, striding to stand next to them.

Sole had put out word that they wanted to see Preston for ‘something extremely important’ earlier that morning and had requested he find her later in the evening in the garden. The garden was a great source of pride for Sole, as they had built the thriving area quite literally from the ground up. They stood near the fence, rinsing tatos under the faucet, and glanced up when Preston spoke. “Good to see you, Preston. Let me finish this up and then we can head inside.”

Truth be told, he was nervous. Sole was usually quite direct with why they wanted to see him, but it seemed they had remained intentionally vague. He was sure they were headed somewhere, possibly to help out another settlement, but that didn’t explain why they weren’t communicating their motives like they usually did.

He shifted uncertainly as they finished rinsing the tatos, piled them in their basket, and moved towards the garden gate. Preston jumped to action and pulled it open for them, anxious to do something. He followed them quietly as they moved to the connected house and pulled open the door. They gestured him inside before they led him to the kitchen and set the basket down. He began to wonder what to do with himself when they asked, “Have you had pasta before. Not Power Noodles, but pasta?”

“Um… what?” Preston stared at them in confusion. “No, I can’t say I have.”

“Come here, I’ll teach you how to make it.”

“Of course, but I have to ask General, why did you want to see me?”

Sole smiled. “You deserve a night off. You’ve been working hard lately- it didn’t escape my notice -and I figured you wouldn’t take a break if I didn’t give you something else to do. So I’ll teach you how to make pasta. We just harvested razorgrain today, so there’s plenty.”

So Preston stepped into their kitchen, a little more certain of himself with that weight off his shoulders, and listened intently as they gave him instructions. They ground the razorgrain into a fine powder with Sole’s makeshift mortar and pestle, split a Mirelurk egg in half, and added it to the flour. As they continued their pasta-making-mission, Skeeter Davis’ voice rang out quietly from the nearby radio, and Preston found himself more at ease than he had been in a while.

The evening moved swiftly into night as the pair sat on Sole’s couch, trading stories over their home cooked meal. Passing settlers turned as Sole’s laughter rang out through the air every now and then, Preston’s following soon after each time. The conversation lasted long into the night before the pair grew quiet and simply listened to the crackling fire that kept the evening chill at bay.

Sole reached out carefully and interlocked their fingers with Preston’s, catching his attention as he glanced from their hands to their face, eyes wide. “Is this okay?” They asked quietly.

Preston nodded and squeezed their hand, an infectious smile crossing his face, to which Sole began smiling as well. Sole began telling another story of their adventures as Preston sunk back into the couch. He’d felt a little selfish thinking it, but he understood why people enjoyed taking breaks.

X6-88:

“I hate it. Six, this is awful.” Sole gripped the rail that lined the glass walkway at the very top of the Institute, staring down in horror.

“The pathways were built to Institute standards. They are perfectly sound.” X6 replied patiently, having gone through this before.

“It’s glass! I don’t trust it. There’s a reason I’ve never come up here! The lower walkways are bad enough.”

X6 stifled his impatience before reaching out and prying their hands off the railing. “Six!” They cried, grasping onto his hand desperately.

He pulled them closer to him, putting his arm around their shoulders with their hand still firmly attached to his, and began guiding them towards the elevator at the end of the pathway. Externally, as usual, he had set his face in a stern expression. However, he found himself suppressing a sense of smug satisfaction at the turn of events.

Once they reached the elevator, he forced himself to begin unwinding himself from Sole. As soon as he began loosening his grip and lifting his arm, Sole grabbed back onto him. “Not yet.” They stared down, just as tense, as the elevator began descending slowly. X6 didn’t protest, and settled his arm back onto their shoulders, their hand gripped firmly in his.

#thank you again for your request #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 blurb #fallout 4 imagines #deacon #preston garvey #piper #x6-88 #RJ MacCready #Paladin Danse #Cait #Curie #Hancock #Mayor Hancock #fo4

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obeywho-meduh · 4 years

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February 2 - Werewolf

February Monster Boyfriend Challenge

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

Non-Obey Me content

Based off @cosmic-whorror Character: Claudio

Warnings: Mentions of blood, animal cruelty (bear trap mentioning), Clastrophobia (avalanche), Near-Death Experience

Everyone around here has heard about the Legend of The Great White Wolf. You’d only lived in the area for a couple of months now but the stories of it now feel like a daily ritual when you went into town to get breakfast at the diner.

“I’m tellin’ ya! It’s at least 15 feet tall! With claws as big as a bear! I don’ know why it would attack me but it did!”

You drank your coffee as you heard some of the hunters complaining about the clearly fake animal. Or probably just a really big wolf, they aren’t as small as most people think, you would know. You’d nursed some when you were younger with your family, probably why you became a vet. But this wasn’t your concern, clearly, they haven’t been able to catch it. And no one seems to really like having these hunters here. Especially him.

He’s a pretty tall guy with pale blue eyes and blonde hair, always has a snowboard with him and is actually pretty well liked around here. “Shut the fuck up already. If you got attacked by the wolf you were doing something you shouldn’t have been doing. Let me eat my damn breakfast in peace.”

[image made by @cosmic-whorror link to image]

He seemed like a hard ass but he’d never been rude to anyone unless they deserved it.

“You gonna make me shut up? Huh? Claw??”

Getting up, you leave before anything gets worse or you get caught in the crossfire. Because you yourself had a pretty strong opinion of animals.

You love animals, maybe that’s why you found yourself living out in the woods, the trek up to your remote cabin seemed like you were entering another world. And as you were about to head inside you heard howling in the distance. Wolves are after all very common in the area but no one has ever been attacked by one. Even the supposed ‘white wolf’ has never attacked anyone. You brushed off the howl until it was followed by a whimpering wail that hit your heart as if you could feel its pain.

Quickly you set down your stuff inside and then grabbed a bigger jacket as well as your personal medical kit. Rushing out of the cabin you wrap your scarf tightly around you and head in the direction of the noise.

You knew the sound, but looking at an actual wolf is always intimidating, but when one growls at you as you approach its even more daunting.

You get down on your knees and present yourself to the wolf as you slowly move closer. You could finally see why it had been whining. It’s caught in a bear trap, its back paw was coloring the snow red around it.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” It wasn’t like it could understand but it still seemed to calm down as you inspected the trap. “I’m going to get you out.” Bear traps are terrible things, and they are even harder to get open if you didn’t have the strength to or if they were rusted. While you pushed it open you could feel the metal piercing your gloves and puncturing your hands, it stung but you needed to save this wolf.

Once it was open enough, it took its foot out and you let it go. You had assumed it would run away but it limped beside you and laid down on its side, and you could hear it panting from the pain.

Taking a deep breath, you then get your kit out and begin to stitch up what you could. To your surprise the wolf let you help it. And when you finished, it then quickly got up and while still limping ran into the woods.

“TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!” You exhale heavily and look at your breath in the air before looking down at your bloody gloves. Luckily the cold made your hands numb and you didn’t feel the pain as much. And you can take care of your hands when you get home. Which you needed to do soon, wouldn’t be good to get frostbite.

The sunlight was waning as you finished putting together your medical kit, you didn’t bring a flashlight so you needed to head back. You could feel the temperature dropping rapidly and it looked like it was beginning to snow. The woods seemed so quiet. You didn’t hear any owls, no chickadees, the only thing that echoed were the sounds of you crushing snow under your feet. Then your nose started to tickle and you sneezed.

That became the loudest echo as it bounced around the wood of the trees and the sheets of snow. You shivered, you knew you’d walked far but it still seems like you should’ve been home by now.

Rumble

What was... No. There’s no way… The sounds of trees breaking made you turn your head. NO! You started to run in the opposite direction, this wasn’t the time for an avalanche to be descending on you. You knew you weren’t going to outrun it. There was no way.

Help...

Snow surrounded you, it hurt as it pressed you down, it’s cold and you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe, there wouldn’t be a point in even trying to open your eyes. Plus... You were getting sleepy. No one would show up to save you. You at least helped that wolf today, that… that was enough… right?

You could feel the pressure of the snow against your chest, everything started to sting. It wasn’t going to help to cry from the pain. If you let go and you won’t have to worry about the pain anymore.

How long have you been under here? Waiting was pointless. Letting go would be easiest. Fine. You exhaled one more time before you just let your body succumb.

Not feeling how light the snow felt on you, but you did know that your body loved that soft warmth that held you. Were you dead now? Is the warmth you feel from the supposed light you see when you die?

You still didn’t want to open your eyes, but when you did the feel of the fire only made you want to go back to sleep. Yeah, it would be better especially… Wait. Fire!?

Your body tried to shoot up but you were wrapped in a big mound of fur.

Wait… This fur. IS MOVING?!

Again you tried to shift, as you did you were met with bright beautiful blue eyes as a thick tongue licking your cheek.

As your mind processed, you noticed the immeasurable size difference between you and this.. Wolf?! How’d you get here? Where was here? You look around frantically and you realize it’s actually your cabin. Your heart pounded, what was happening?!

[image made by @cosmic-whorror link to image]

Once again, the wolf licked you, only this time starting from your neck and finishing at your ear.

Your body shivered as you reflexively bonk its nose.

“Owowowow! Geez! What the hell did I do!?”

Eyes wide, jaw on the floor and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Did… Did it just speak!?

The shock made you pass out. There would be no way an animal that size existed and on top of that! BE ABLE TO SPEAK!

When you opened your eyes again, you were on your couch but the warm feeling you got from the fur was gone. It was all probably a dream... Thank goodness…

“I just want to say that fucking hurt, can you not hit my nose anymore?”

You froze, your hand was touching something warm and as you look down you see a thigh and leg. Well… that’s not a furry body, but… You turn your head around to see that guy from the diner!

NAKED!

With you in his lap! You shoot straight up, headbutting him in the process. Oh great, now you have a splitting headache.

You could hear him growl a bit, “Why… in the fuck…” You were both holding your heads while you grabbed the blanket and put it over him.

“Uuuggghh… I think that was hard enough for a concussion…” Then your mind shot back to the avalanche and you breathing started to hasten.

“Hey!” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, “You have to calm down, your body took on a couple pounds of snow.”

So it did happen. Wait…

“Did you… did you say earlier… that I hit your nose?”

“Ah…” He sighed heavily before scratching the back of his head, “Shit. Well, guess there’s no point hiding it.” His whole body morphed and about tripled in size as his blonde hair turned while but once you saw his blue eyes you knew it was the same wolf as before.

So it really wasn’t a dream.

Fuck.

“And now that you know, if you tell anyone.” He lowered his head, his breath was hot against your ear. “Then I’ll have to eat you and them.”

After a few minutes of hearing multiple threats he turned back and put on some spare clothes I had. Good thing I always buy miscellaneously large shirts and keep plenty of different sized pants. Easier to stay bundled with layers if the layers can actually go on top of one another.

“I’m Claudio by the way. Claw, preferably. And you don’t have to thank me for saving you, it was actually Nuka who told me about you being out in that area. So it’s a thanks for saving him and bandaging that wound.”

“Nuka?”

“The wolf.”

“Is he your pet?”

“No, why would he be? He’s a good friend.”

“Well he has a name so I thought..” “No, that’s what he said they call younger siblings where he comes from. So I guess he sees me as an older brother?” He shrugs while he puts on a spare jacket. “I think I’ll keep these clothes, they’re pretty nice.”

“By the way… What's your name?”

You didn’t think saving a wolf would end up with a werewolf saving you and now… we'll have to see what happens next.

#monster lover writing #monster boys #monsterbfchallenge #monster lover #monsterfucker #werewolf

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minuteminx · 4 years

Text

Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Seven: Jewel of the Commonwealth

Chapter Summary: Charlie and Preston make the most of their time in Diamond City.

[First Chapter]

[Previous Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

“Revolution is not something fixed in ideology, nor is it something fashioned to a particular decade. It is a perpetual process embedded in the human spirit.” ― Abbie Hoffman

Diamond City, January 2287

Charlie sat uncomfortably, poorly supported by the worn, flattened cushions of the dingy, yellow couch beneath her. It wasn’t the various questionable stains in the fabric that caused her to sit stiffly, hands in her lap, twisting at her wedding ring with her thumb. In fact, as far as couches went, she’d seen much worse in the Commonwealth. She simply hadn’t expected to find a lead on Shaun so quickly, nor had she been prepared to spill her guts to some nosy reporter in order to follow that lead.

“You don’t have to talk to her, you know,” Preston muttered at her side. He’d declined the offer of a place to sit, and instead leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “Diamond City’s a big place. I’m sure someone else knows something.”

Charlie shook her head. She wanted answers more than she wanted confidentiality, and after walking around the repurposed baseball stadium for an hour, being blown off and scoffed at by everyone she’d approached with questions about her missing son, she’d considered Piper’s offer. At least she seemed like she meant well.

They’d run into the journalist at the “city” gates, bickering with the security officer on the radio who refused to let her inside. She’d quickly roped Charlie and Preston into the conflict, using their arrival as a way to get the guard to open up. After all, how could he possibly refuse to open the gates to guests on account of her presence? Ultimately he’d opened up, and the mayor, a pompous man named McDonough— who looked like every bit of a pre-Nuclear Revolution oil tycoon— was waiting to greet them all.

According to him, Piper had stirred up a fuss with one of her articles, throwing suspicion at McDonough about his lack of concern over person’s mysteriously missing from Diamond City, as well as his possible ties to something called “the Institute.” He’d hilariously called her a “muckraker” and apologized that Charlie and Preston had gotten dragged into her “little scheme.” It was all Charlie could do to keep from laughing as she told him that freedom of the press was important and watched him stomp away.

Piper had thanked them for their help, inquired as to why they’d come to town, and Charlie made the mistake of mentioning her missing son. This sort of thing was right up Piper’s alley as far as journalistic intrigue and investigation went, and she’d jumped at the opportunity to offer her assistance in return for an interview. Charlie declined at the time, but now she felt like she didn’t have many options. Not even Mama Murphy’s vision offered her the insight she’d hoped for.

“So, Blue,” Piper announced as she returned from upstairs with a notepad in one hand and two Nuka Cola bottles in the other. She handed one of them to Preston and the other to Charlie. “I’m really glad you decided to stop by. I know I was a little pushy at the gate. I just—”

“You actually care about this stuff, don’t you,” Charlie asked with a smile, opening her Nuka Cola and sticking the cap in her pocket.

“Somebody has to,” Piper answered, “People go missing all the time in Diamond City, the Commonwealth, and everyone just turns a blind eye. I’m hoping that your story will wake them up.”

“Well,” Charlie began, interrupting herself to take a drink, “What do you want to know?”

Charlie spent the next hour or so answering Piper’s questions, starting with the basic items that most Commonwealth inhabitants would want to know about a vault-dweller. Unfortunately, Charlie couldn’t provide those answers, as she had never dwelled in a vault. She’d lived in a house, spent two-hundred plus years as a popsicle, and woke up in an irradiated wasteland. Of course, Piper found that response to be even more intriguing, and she’d pressed Charlie for information about what it was like before the war, what happened to her family, why she was in Diamond City, and ultimately if she believed the Institute was involved.

Finally, she’d asked Charlie to leave the readers with some words of wisdom, something she did not feel particularly equipped to do. She glanced up and over at Preston, whose eyes were already on her. He’d been listening quietly to the interview the entire time, heard her talk about her life before the war in details she’d yet to give to him. She’d talked about how much better everything was before the bombs fell, how she’d give anything to go back. She’d been honest, but as she saw his somber expression, the furrow in his brow, she wished she’d shared those truths with him more gently.

“If there’s anything I think the people of the Commonwealth should know,” Charlie said, letting her eyes linger on Preston before turning back to Piper, “It’s that they shouldn’t give up hope. When I watched those bombs drop, I just knew that it was the end of the world, and to wake up and see that people are still out here not only surviving, but rebuilding, and trying to make the Commonwealth a better place… it’s pretty inspiring. It gives me hope in humanity.”

It was dark by the time Charlie and Preston stepped back out into the marketplace, sent away by Piper with new information. Admitting that she had nothing but hunches about the abductions, she told them that they should seek out some private detective named Nick Valentine, who had an office in the city. Charlie tried not to get her hopes up at the mention of the “tacky little neon heart signs” above his office door. As right as Mama Murphy typically was, Charlie preferred to expect the worst these days, so that when she was wrong, it was a pleasant surprise rather than devastation.

Though the sun had set, Diamond City still bustled with life, citizens buzzing around, chatting with one another, and making purchases at the vendors set up in the square. It was a collage of juxtaposed pieces of rusted metal and wood built in the middle of the field and grafted up into the stands, an impressive feat of human ingenuity and creativity decorated with neon lights. Charlie admired that the human race had found ways to press on in the face of destruction. She was less excited about the prospect of attempting to find Mr. Valentine’s office in all the chaos, of pushing past and around people who’d been rude to her just hours earlier. She’d never been prone to claustrophobia before her time in the vault, and yet panic seized her gut and grappled with her chest at the thought.

“Charlie,” Preston asked, voice a thousand miles away as he lay a hand on her shoulder, “You good?”

He wore the expression of someone who’d spent enough time fighting his own demons to realize that she needed a hand with hers, and Charlie nodded in response. “Yeah. I am now.”

With her newfound sense of clarity she moved to take a step out into the square, toward the far corner where she could see a path to some alleyways that circled the market. Preston’s hand slid from her shoulder only to catch her hand and stop her in her tracks. Surprised, she snapped around to look at him, unsure what to make of the gesture.

“What,” she asked, looking around to make sure she hadn’t overlooked something obvious, like a mutant hound standing in the middle of the ballpark, ferals pouring out of windows, or even one of those annoying eyebots that blared advertisements for companies that no longer existed. After all, Charlie had already bumped face first into one of those things because she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe Preston was just trying to save her another bout of bruised ego and busted lip.

“Where are you going,” he asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“To find this Valentine person,” she answered excitedly, tugging at his hand that still held onto hers, “C’mon.”

Preston shook his head and laughed quietly. “I know you’re itching to talk to the guy, but it’s getting late. I’m sure his office is closed by now.”

“Oh,” she replied, bringing up her PipBoy to check the time and feeling rather ridiculous when it said 20:00, “Right.”

“Besides, it’s been a really long day,” he said, “I think we could both stand to take the night off.”

The prospect of an evening in the city with Preston, free of her commitments for just a few hours, enticed her more than she was willing to vocally admit, and instead she replied with a sigh and, “That’s fair.”

“So,” he began after a moment, a smile forming on his lips as he gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. “You hungry?”

“Depends,” she answered, nudging him with her shoulder, “Is there something to eat besides grilled radroach?”

He laughed. “Definitely.”

“Then, I’m starving.”

---

It wasn’t long after her return from Corvega that Charlie had approached Preston about her wish to visit Diamond City, the “great jewel of the Commonwealth,” as the wastelanders sometimes called it. He had offered to accompany her without hesitation— as soon as her leg healed up, of course. At the time, she’d wondered if his offer was simply a way to keep an eye on her, to make sure his newly-appointed General didn’t croak in her first month on the job. Now, as she walked around with him in the city, watching his face light up with genuine excitement for the first time since she’d met him, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had other motivations for joining her.

Their search for a decent meal led them to a vendor in the middle of the marketplace, aptly called “Power Noodles,” and operated by a slightly unorthodox protectron chef named Takahashi. It took several clumsy attempts to order the only thing on the menu, and Takahashi served them what turned out to be honest-to-goodness ramen noodles. Charlie nearly wept at the sight, taste, and smell of real actual food that wasn’t questionably past its expiration date or harvested from directly irradiated flora and fauna. She never appreciated artificial flavorings and monosodium glutamate enough before the war, and she was unashamed to purchase several packets to take with her for later.

It was Preston who had stood up first, paying the chef for both of their meals, and placing his hat back on his head before turning to Charlie. He extended a hand to her, and she glanced awkwardly between it and his face several times before she realized he intended to help her down and took it. If the nuclear fallout hadn’t killed chivalry, nothing could.

She still had not let go of his hand, even as they finished perusing the vendors in the square. She’d managed to purchase a change of clothes, some worn jeans and a flannel shirt that actually fit, as well as a handful of bobby pins, some stale bubble gum, and a supersized bottle of Wonder Glue for Sturges. Preston didn’t buy anything for himself, but Charlie caught random glimpses of him laughing and shaking his head at her as she tried to haggle down the merchants, with little success. Once, their eyes met, and the same heat she’d previously attributed to whiskey rose to her face.

She shook it away as she trailed behind him, through clusters of city dwellers and toward a clearing near the city gates. She could no longer deny the uncomfortable, burgeoning affection she felt for her companion. She could, however, pretend it didn’t exist, lock it up in her chest and place it on the mental shelf right next to the bottle which held her oceans of grief. It wasn’t exactly the healthiest way for her to handle her emotions, she knew, but it was the only one where they did not consume her.

When Charlie finally escaped her thoughts, she noticed that Preston had slowed his pace to a halt, and was now gazing up at the rows and rows of empty seats in the stands. For someone who claimed to have passed through Diamond City several times in his life, he sure acted like some wonderstruck tourist seeing it for the first time.

“In all the times I passed through here, I never really realized just how many seats there are,” Preston mused before turning to Charlie. “I sometimes try to picture what things looked like before the bombs destroyed it all, but… so many people in one place at the same time. It’s hard to imagine.”

“To be honest I never really understood it either,” Charlie admitted,” Back then, I had this idea that places like this, where enormous amounts of money were spent so that America could watch grown men hit tiny balls with wooden sticks, were a waste.”

“It does sound kind of ridiculous when you put it that way.”

“I’m glad it’s here, though,” she said, blinking up at the remnants of a scoreboard, “It looks like it’s given lots of people a safe place to live.”

Preston smiled, but only briefly, and sighed as the wistfulness faded from his face. “It’s good to know there’s at least one thing that’s gotten better since your time.”

He didn’t mean for his words to cut her, and they didn’t at first, not until she processed the fact that he’d alluded to her earlier conversation with Piper. Boy did they ever smart after it clicked. She fumbled around in her head looking for some balm of a response.

“Listen, I—” she began, but was interrupted as something slammed into her shoulder and knocked her into Preston.

The man who smacked into her was tall and stocky, dressed in the black uniform and baseball helmet all of the other DC Security Guards wore. He looked back, and glared at the both of them. “Stop standing in the middle of the fucking street, you goddamn hicks.”

“Hick” was an insult Charlie hadn’t expected to still be in use in the 23rd Century, and she puffed up, preparing the most artfully profane comeback she could think of; however the man continued to stomp away, and before she could yell after him another guard approached, stopping when he was shoulder to shoulder with Charlie.

“Don’t mind him,” the guard said, pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. The next time he spoke, his voice was loud enough that the other guard could hear him. “Ralph had to dump his girl last night ‘cause she left the cap on her toothpaste.”

“Who does that?” Ralph called back, voice audibly strained with betrayal, “A synth! That’s who.”

“Or just your regular old run of the mill psychopath,” the guard beside Charlie muttered.

“I keep the cap on my tooth paste,” Charlie chimed in with a shrug.

“Me too,” echoed Preston.

The man scoffed and waved his hand dismissively at them, “Weirdos.”'

“What the hell just happened,” Charlie asked as she watched the unusual security officer walk away and then glanced over at Preston.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he replied.

There was a beat of silence in which he glanced around the area, then brought his gaze back to her, amusement bright in his eyes and apparent in the dimples that formed in his cheeks. Before Charlie could conjure up anything to say, he erupted into a fit of laughter unlike anything she’d heard from her stoic lieutenant yet. It wasn’t the polite chuckle he offered to Mama Murphy when she teased or flirted with him, nor was it the snort he’d sometimes let out when Sturges made an off-color joke that he knew he shouldn’t find funny. It was real, genuine laughter, and it was enchanting as hell.

Charlie slipped easily into the contagion, laughter bubbling up past the wall of anxiety that had taken up permanent residence in her chest. For just those few moments, as they stood giggling like children surrounded by famous green walls and so many neon lights, she felt something more than empty. When the laughter finally subsided, it was Preston who spoke first, a smile still painted on his face.

“Man,” he said looking down at the ground and kicking at the dirt, “I can’t even remember the last time I had this much fun.”

“And to think it’s all because of a toothpaste cap,” she joked, tilting her head.

“No.” Preston shook his head and looked up at her. “I mean, that was kind of hilarious, but I’m talking about this whole night… hanging out with you. I needed this.”

“So did I,” she replied, reaching for his hand almost unconsciously, “We should do it more often.”

He glanced thoughtfully between her eyes and extended hand before taking it, allowing their fingers to lace. A grin spread across his face. “Yeah?”

Charlie smiled and nodded, embracing the fondness swelling in her chest. “Yeah.”

After a few seconds Preston cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s, uh, it’s getting pretty late isn’t it?”

Charlie checked the clock on her PipBoy, reading the time aloud. “23:57.”

He blinked a few times, clearly surprised. “Well, damn.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, huh,” she teased, releasing his hand and bumping his shoulder with hers.

“I guess it does,” he sighed, “We should probably start looking for somewhere to sleep for the night.”

Charlie opened her mouth to ask if there were any hotels in town, and realized she had no idea if hotels existed anymore. Bringing her hand to her face, she sighed and mumbled into her palm. “God, I don’t even know if you mean rooms with beds or a suitably clean spot on the ground where we can use our jackets as pillows.”

A warm pressure fell on her middle back, Preston’s hand, and she looked up and over at him. “I mean rooms with beds,” he reassured her, “And, come to think of it, I might actually know a place.”

---

As it turned out, inns still existed in 2287. The place Preston knew of turned out to be a sizable bar and inn constructed in the ruins of one of the old team dugouts, aptly named “The Dugout Inn.” The lighting was low and comfortable, some slow jazz from the 1950s hummed over the radio as patrons sat on couches and at tables nursing bottles of pale ale or sipping whiskey as they chatted. Charlie could have gotten used to a place like that.

On the radio, the bumbling mess she’d come to know as Travis tried and failed to tell a joke about mutfruit. At her side, Preston snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes. Several of the Inn’s customers booed and called for someone to change the station.

“Change station,” asked the man standing behind the bar with a hearty laugh and an inexplicable Slavic accent. He looked to be in his forties, balding and dressed in a flannel shirt and denim jacket with a fur-lined collar. “Change to what exactly? Cambridge Police station? Boring classical bullshit stati—”

“Vadim,” hissed another inexplicably Slavic man as he turned the dial on the radio until some concerta-symphony-thing started playing. He looked identical to the bartender, only he wore a dirty grey suit and a scowl instead.

“What, brother? They make stupid suggestions,” Vadim said and shook his head, waiting until his brother walked past him and down the hallway before grabbing the radio and turning it back to Travis and his Diamond City station.

Sixty Minute Man poured through the speakers, and Charlie brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle a chuckle at the irony. When she looked up, Vadim appeared to have locked eyes with Preston, his already wide grin stretching even further across his face as he waved and shouted, “Preston Garvey, old friend, is that you?”

Preston glanced at Charlie as if he was gauging her reaction, and then looked back at Vadim, mirroring the delighted expression. “The one and only.”

He made his way toward the bar, and Charlie tailed closely behind. As they approached Vadim pointed a thumb to the radio. He’d clearly connected the same dots as she had. “What is the old American saying? Speak of the Devil?”

Easing down onto one of the stools, taking his hat off, and setting it on the bar, Preston answered. “I tell you, we could use some of that Lovin’ Dan’ energy right now, Vadim.”

“You will be first to know if I find some,” Vadim chuckled, but his expression fell, eyebrows pressing together in concern. “It is good to see you. I heard rumors about Quincy… I was worried.”

“Yeah, it got pretty bad,” Preston admitted somberly, looking down, then another sidelong glance at Charlie before he returned his attention to the man behind the bar, “But things are starting to look up now.”

“This is good news,” Vadim, bringing his eyes up to examine Charlie casually, “It could not possibly have to do with this lady friend of yours, could it?”

She flinched, shaking her head more quickly than she needed to and giving a dismissive hand wave. She wasn’t his “lady friend,” and she certainly had nothing to do with turning his outlook around. Hell, all she’d done was stumble into a museum half out of her mind. Things were looking up for Preston because he was no longer running for his life, the lone shield between the dangers of the Commonwealth and the settlers he was charged to protect. Things were looking up because the Minutemen were back in business.

She opened her mouth to decline the undeserved credit, when Preston turned back to her, nearly beaming, and said, “It may have something to do with her.”

Vadim’s brows shot up in amusement. “Oh ho?”

Charlie rolled her eyes playfully, pretending her face wasn’t on fire, and moved to sit on the stool next to Preston, leaning her elbows on the table. “Preston likes to put me on a pedestal because I was in the right place at the right time.”

“And Charlie likes to pretend she didn’t throw a grenade down a deathclaw’s throat,” Preston corrected, giving her a nudge with his elbow.

“So the lady’s name is Charlie?” asked Vadim.

She nodded. “Charlie Smart. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same to you! Any friend of Garvey’s is a friend of mine.”

“Just don’t let him talk you into trying any of that moonshine of his,” Preston warned, smirking, “That shit’ll make you forget your own name.”

“What? No,” Vadim feigned offense, “ Only side effect of Bobrov Brothers’ Moonshine is growing of hair on strong, feminine chest.”

Charlie laughed at the exchange, even as her thoughts drifted to moonshine and memories of home. It was an Appalachian staple after all, a relic of the farce that Prohibition had been. Folks in the mountains brewed hooch in five gallon stills far away from the prying eyes of “The Man,” and the practice had never stopped. Growing up, Charlie’s next door neighbors had a still in their basement, and they’d occasionally deliver mason jars of moonshine-infused peaches and cherries. She had blurry memories of sneaking the cherries from the cupboard when she was fifteen or sixteen, and taking them to Nate’s house just down the road. His parents were never home, and no one cared if they consumed an entire jar.

Shaking herself out of forever ago memories, she glanced from Vadim to Preston, then back, and smiled. “As much as I’d love to forget my own name... among other things, we’re just here for rooms tonight.”

“Have it your way,” he replied with a shrug, as he reached below the counter and pulled up a clipboard that held a single, indescribably stained sheet of paper that appeared to serve as the inn’s guest book. Scanning the page, Vadim winced and looked back up at Charlie.

“Let me guess,” she remarked dryly, “There aren’t any open rooms.”

“No, no,” Vadim corrected her, “We have room. A room.”

Charlie blinked a few times, realization of the predicament dawning on her. Under typical circumstances, she wouldn’t have batted a single eyelash at the thought of sharing a room with someone as harmless as Preston. Especially considering the fact that they’d slept near one another on multiple occasions on the road and their first few nights in Sanctuary. She shouldn’t have even thought twice about it, and yet there she stood with nothing but a blank expression and a head full of second thoughts.

“That’s fine,” Preston piped up nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. Maybe it was. “How much?”

“For you and lady friend,” Vadim answered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “On the house.”

“You sure,” Preston asked, tilting his head, oblivious to the other man’s gestures. Vadim’s brother could be heard cursing and scoffing about Vadim’s penchant for charity, and Preston continued. “We don’t care to pay.”

“Nonsense!” Vadim bent down under the counter and rose back up with a rusty key dangling from a keychain that was shaped like a Nuka Cola bottle, “Here. You’re in room at far end of hall. Try not to disturb our other guests.”

Another suggestion that her companion failed to notice as he took the key, put his hat on and said, “Thanks, man.” Clearly, Preston had never spent hours consuming hundreds of pages of tropey romance literature in his early twenties as Charlie had.

As they made their way down the hall and toward their room, Preston chuckled and started to shake his head characteristically. “Vadim totally thinks we’re sleeping together.”

A wave of relief washed over her. “Thank God.”

“What,” he asked matter-of-factly, stopping in front of the door marked with the number five at the end of the hall and fiddling with the key and lock, “Did you think I didn’t notice?”

She shrugged and scrunched her nose. “Maybe.” “Miss Charlotte,” he exclaimed, imitating Codsworth in faux-offense as he twisted the knob, pushed open the door, and turned back to her with a smile, “I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”

A smirk tugged at one of Charlie’s cheeks, and she rolled her eyes, taking a step into the room. “Does it not embarrass you that your bartender buddy thinks we’re going to get it on in—” she flipped on the light and looked around the space provided for them— “this sad, dusty little room?”

“This is actually pretty nice compared to other places I’ve stayed.” Preston closed the door, locked it, and tucked the key into one of his duster pockets. “There aren’t even any radroaches.”

Charlie grimaced and moved to sit down on the edge of the sheetless bed, then flicked her eyes up to him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you expertly evaded my question.”

He sighed and flopped down on the patchy brown sofa that was directly across the room from the bed. “No,” he said as he took off his hat yet again, reaching over to place it on an end table. It was amazing how the Bobrov brothers managed to squeeze so much furniture into a room that was hardly bigger than a shoebox.

“No?”

“It doesn’t embarrass me,” Preston explained matter-of-factly, gaze dancing around the room before settling on Charlie, “Does it embarrass you?”

“No,” she lied, “I mean… why would it? We’re two, grown-ass, consenting adults, and if that’s what we were doing here— which it obviously isn’t— there would be nothing to be ashamed of.”

The room was quiet as he took a moment to raise his eyebrows and blink at her before letting out a quiet chuckle. “Whatever you say, General. ”

They readied themselves for bed in a comfortable silence, with the exception of the rustling of fabric as boots and coats slipped off. Without his ridiculous-- yet oddly appropriate-- period attire, Preston looked so normal , like someone she might have stood in line behind in the Super Duper Mart, someone who did normal things like laundry and family dinners. He deserved a life like that, she thought. If anyone had no business living in Hell, it was Preston Garvey.

“Something wrong,” he asked when he caught her mid stare.

She shook her head. “Uh… no. Well, not really.”

He didn’t respond, except to give her a knowing look.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down at the floorboards.

“For what?”

“The things I said during the interview with Piper.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I got carried away talking about my old life, and I didn’t consider how it would sound for the General of the Minutemen to talk shit about the Commonwealth we’re supposed to be saving.”

Preston laughed humorlessly. “The Commonwealth is shit, Charlie. That’s just honest.”

“Yeah, but—”

“And if I’d had your life… well, I think I’d miss it, too,” he interjected as he stood up and sat down beside her on the bed, “Hell, I sometimes look around and wonder what is even the point. Why am I fighting for this place?”

Charlie lay her hand over his where it rested on his knee. He looked down at their hands, and then turned his palm up so that their fingers could interlock. Without its glove, his hand was warm and softer than she expected it to be. She caught the gold flare of her wedding band, and hot tears brimmed in her eyes. She couldn’t figure out whether the emotion was grief or guilt, and she refused to think more about it.

Clearing her throat as if it would force her feelings away, she said, “That’s why I apologized. I don’t want you to doubt that what you’ve done, what you do, matters.”

“Trust me, I was doubting that before you showed up,” he admitted, absently tracing her thumb with his while he talked, “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Preston—”

“You don’t,” he repeated more firmly, “I wasn’t just kidding around with Vadim out there. Things really have started looking up because of you.”

“I…” She began but faltered, unable to tell if his words were just a compliment or more than that. It sure felt like more than that, sitting on a bed in a dimly lit hotel room and holding hands after an evening of eating and shopping and talking that was uncomfortably close to a date when she thought about it. She pulled her hand away from Preston to rest on her own lap, trying not to think too much about the hurt look it left on his face.

“You blow up one deathclaw,” she deflected, “And suddenly you’re a superhero.”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing and standing up. He smirked and then pointed toward the headboard of the bed. “Now, hand me one of those pillows, Grognak.”

---

Charlie awoke the next morning to a pounding chest, tears streaming down her face. She rarely dreamed, but when she did it was always a nightmare that she could barely remember as soon as she opened her eyes. Flashes of Nate, Shaun, the bombs, her conscious moments in the cryochamber, her past was a phantom limb, aching where she could no longer reach.

She didn’t actually remember falling asleep. After her less than comfortable moment with Preston, he’d taken one of the pillows and gone to lay on the couch while she curled up on the bed, wondering how it was that the Bobrovs ran an inn without blankets for their guests. They’d stayed up for sometime afterward, talking about innocuous things like comic books, music, and everything else but the elephant in the room. She figured she must have dozed off sometime before they got back to the elephant again.

Yawning and stretching, she sat up and looked over toward the couch where Preston still dozed, his breath slow and heavy. She’d never seen him asleep before, always in bed before and up after him. She’d begun to question whether he actually slept at all. Now she knew, and she refused to disturb him.

That did not mean she would wait a minute longer to head to find Nick Valentine’s office. As quietly as she could, she pulled on her jacket and boots, fastened her PipBoy to her wrist, and slipped out of the room. Were they in a pre-war inn, she would have left Preston a note on one of those little stationery pads where the paper was decorated with the company’s logo. Gone to see a guy about a baby . Unfortunately they weren’t at a Motel 7, and there wasn’t anyone at the bar with whom she could leave a message about her whereabouts. She would have to trust his ability to connect the dots.

Stepping out of the Dugout, she squinted her eyes in the sunlight, bringing a hand up to her forehead to serve as a visor while she glanced around. Still clueless as to where that damn detective agency was located. It was well hidden for an office that was supposed to have more than one glowing neon sign pointing toward it. Frustrated, she let out a huff, moving to walk down one of the nearby alleyways, and instead bumped directly into a suit of Diamond City security riot gear.

“Shit. Sorry,” she muttered, as the officer turned around slowly. “Oh, it’s you.”

The guard from the night before, Ralph’s friend, who’d worn sunglasses instead of a helmet, stood in front of her, an amused smirk twitching at his lips. “We’ve got to stop bumping into each other like this.”

“Mhmm,” she said dismissively as she continued to scan the area before looking up at him, “Say, maybe you could help me.”

“What? Did you lose your friend,” he asked, words thick with sarcasm, “Don’t worry, he’s the only person in DC dressed like an American Revolution action figure. He shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“What? No,” she replied, shaking her head, “He’s not lost, just sleeping.”

“Then what do you need,” he urged, “I’m kind of busy here.”

Taking a deep, centering breath, she placed her hands on her hips and answered. “I’m looking for Valentine’s Detective Agency.”

The guard raised his eyebrows and pointed out toward the market. “Nick’s place is directly across the market. There’s neon signs. You can’t miss it.”

Charlie followed the line of his arm, mentally charting out a path through the city. She turned around to thank the unusual guard only to see that he had vanished.

“Weirdo,” she mumbled, and trudged out into the square.

#fallout 4 #preston garvey #preston garvey x sole survivor #Revolutionary #update #my writing #I KNOW IT'S 2 AM #BUT IT'S FINALLY DONE

18 notes · View notes

bottlecapbaby · 4 years

Text

Fantasiland | Gage/SoSu

Pairing: Porter Gage/Fem!Sole Survivor

word count: 1519

Warnings: nsft hehe

notes: I was writing one big chapter but I decided to split it up! here’s the first part. Part of the Nuka-World Blues series

Sole was a reader. Her eyes roamed all over everyone she spoke to, not quite clinically, but definitely observant. She took one look at someone and knew exactly what they wanted to hear from her. All stares, all the time, nothing safe from her fiber optic gaze.

At first, it made Gage freaked out and uncomfortable. What was she looking for? Was he uglier than he thought? As with all of her quirks, he got used to it pretty fast, until it eventually just endeared her to him more.

But Gage was quickly realizing something. She could dish it, but she couldn’t take it. Did her best to avoid stares from others. It took a long time for her companion to figure it out, because her backwards way of avoiding having her body and face stared at was to keep eye contact. But once he figured it out? Shit, it was somehow even harder not to stare while he followed her around. To make it worse, she shivered when she felt eyes on her sometimes.

Unfortunately for Sole, she naturally attracted attention, as much as she tried to avoid it. It was a big reason why she ditched the vault suit so early on. She still looked fresher, prettier, and fuller than everyone around by leaps and bounds. Those who weren’t gawking at her pre-war beauty looked at her for all manner of reasons: her wardrobe (some stolen from animatronics, some hand made), her weapons (like that freaky sword she found at the bottom of a well), the company she was keeping (Strong, Hancock, Gage, etc), the weird shit she can’t seem to stop herself from saying.

Gage’s stares were a unique combination of all of those things, plus his own… feelings. As with most of his feelings towards her, they began as purely sexual. Plumpness of her ass, swell of her breasts, the way her thighs pushed together on tram rides. Then some more subtle attractive features. The sheen of her hair, bright smile, smooth skin.

Then it got a little too specific. Gushy kinda shit he’d rather die than say out loud. The kinda thing that only existed in pre-war harlequin novels. The little whisps of baby hair at the base of her neck, the way she crinkled her nose, the birthmark at her hip that was only visible when one of her sleep shirts rode up (or, god willing, she changed in front of him).

And now that Gage had let her start with those little touches? Things only got worse. Give Sole an inch and she’ll take a mile, not that Gage ever had it in his heart to stop her; the man did not know how to refuse her. The way she looked at him when she’d grab his hand or touch his shoulder? Card her fingers through his mohawk, short as it was? He’d do just about anything to see that look, much as he beat himself up for even thinking stupid sentimental shit like that.

Not to mention the hugs. Good, merciful lord, the hugs.

Every time they got back to the Fizztop for the day, she’d give him a hug the minute the last of his armor came off, no matter what dirt and grime was still all over them. In her eagerness, she always finished removing hers before him, practically bouncing while she waited for him to be done. Then, another embrace before they parted for the night to go to sleep. It was times like these where she really acted like some kid, and the old raider didn’t understand why he tolerated it, much less looked forward to it.

Maybe it was because even though she acted like a kid sometimes, she sure as hell didn’t hug like one. For one, sometimes she just about knocked the wind out of him (she had to have strong arms to carry around all those desk fans ‘n shit, he supposed). For another, the way her chest squished against his fucked with his brains something special. Or rather, it drained the blood from his brains and sent it… somewhere else. Fuck, she was soft. Warm too. Sometimes, when she showered right before bed (with no luxuries like hot water to be found in Nuka-World), he could feel her pebbled nipples under the fabric of whatever shitty Nuka-Cola t-shirt she was wearing. Without pants, cause why the fuck should she make anything easy for him?

He jerked off pretty much every night lately, like a teenager who just got his hands a pre-war nudie magazine for the first time.

Tonight, his fantasy of choice was wondering if Sole was doing the exact same thing as him down the hall. It wasn’t his first time thinking of this scenario, not by a long shot, though he had noticed that the prevalence of Sole calling his name in these fantasies had gone way up as of late. Another recent development was how it ended.

At first he could get off just to thinking of her arched back, hair in a halo around her, fingers reaching deep in her cunt while her breath got labored and her legs twitched. Then, it was him that she was crying for. Then, in the theater of his mind, he would interrupt her, maybe thinking she was calling his name because she needed help, maybe because he knew exactly what she was doing and how much she wanted him (depending on if he needed an ego boost). She’d take everything he had to give her, and she’d take it gladly, until he was satisfied (usually she’d be satisfied ten times over in the process). Within the past couple of weeks, the fantasy had started concluding with him pulling her close, having her rest on him as they dozed. He knew this was a slippery fuckin’ slope to be on, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Tonight, fantasy-Sole whispered something as she fell asleep.

It would probably be another week or two before he’d be able to admit to himself what she said.

———-

Too real. That was too real.

Gage was brought out of his fantasies by the sound of a voice. Sole’s voice. He wasn’t sure if he had imagined it or not, it was like when you wake up because someone in a dream calls your name. It was so quiet, so barely there that it was easy to ignore.

Or it would have been, had it happened just once.

Gage had pretty good hearing despite everything. He had to. Needed to be able to sleep but stay aware enough to defend himself. Muffled as it was, he heard the occasional sharp, strangled moan. It could only have come from the boss, who slept down the hall on the patio. He quickly tugged on some jeans and got up, his head running through possible scenarios at a mile a minute as he paced quickly yet quietly down the corridor.

Sole was nothing short of neurotic, and it showed as soon as she first laid eyes on the Fizztop Grille. The grimace she made upon seeing all the animatronics, random shit, and trash strewn about the place when she first arrived made Gage laugh whenever he thought of it. It had been cleaned up, rearranged, and thoroughly taken care of within 24 hours, probably less. At the time, it made Gage pretty fuckin’ nervous, afraid that he’d just recruited a complete ninny and that Nisha was going to skin his ass raw. But now, he was grateful for how obsessive she had been about cleaning.

Because she had made sure to oil every single rusted-to-fuck doorknob, hinge, and mechanism in the entire place. Meaning when Gage opened the door to the patio, it was quiet enough that she didn’t stir from whatever she was doing. Gage was about to find out whatever that was.

“—hah! Fuck…”

The raider peaked over at her, nearly craning his neck to see what was going on, and he was almost starting to sweat at the sounds she was letting out. He cautiously made his way forward, until he inched close enough to make out that she was under the covers. Curled in on her side, panting, really clearly trying to be quiet. And to her credit, she was. Gage couldn’t help but think she’d probably done this in the company of her other friends at a similar distance, but their hearing hadn’t been trained enough to pick it up. They hadn’t been waiting to hear it like he had.

The scene had been… different from how he had imagined. He had thought of her, spread out, on her back, almost unapologetically loud and out of breath. Presented. But here in reality, she was so tucked away and vulnerable. What came out were hitched breaths and quiet whimpers, all he could really see was her tangled hair on the pillow and the movement from beneath the sheets.

Got him hotter than any porno mag he’d ever had, and he could barely even see her.

“Oh god— Gage—“

And that was the final push he needed.

#writing #drabble #nsft #fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #porter gage #gage x sole survivor

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potatocrab · 4 years

Text

steady

Butch takes Rosie out on their first date in Megaton, more than month after he initially asked her. Better late than never.

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

2616 words | [read on Ao3]

Butch must’ve checked his reflection in the cracked mirror a dozen times, restyling his hair until every stray, black strand was perfectly in place. He’d inspected his teeth, breathing into his palm and wincing when he smelled nicotine and that morning’s breakfast. Good thing he’d swiped all those hygiene products when he left Vault 101—better for his breath to smell like artificial mint than stale cigarettes and cram. A little bit of toothpaste and a quick rinse and he was good to go—well, not before a generous spritz from his trusty bottle of cologne.

Then came his appearance, wondering if his clothes were presentable enough. He’d found the cleanest shirt from his duffle bag of clothes, tucked it into a pair of jeans that were relatively free of wasteland grime, and swapped his combat boots for a pair of sneakers instead. With his Tunnel Snakes jacket, he looked and felt like his usual self—he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing, given the occasion. Butch didn’t know why he was so nervous, in his head about that evening—it was just a date. He’d been on plenty before in the vault, where else would he have gotten his reputation as a ladies’ man? Okay—that was definitely not a good thing, not anymore, not when he was trying to go steady with one lady in particular. Tonight wasn’t just a date—it was the date—his first date with Rosie.

Butch would’ve taken her on one earlier but hadn’t found the nerve to ask until after they’d kissed. Well, after she dared him to kiss her, which he eagerly obliged to. Kissing was one thing but asking Rosie on a date was another—lucky for him, she agreed. Unlucky for him, they were constantly sidetracked, the Lone Wanderer needed on important missions for the Brotherhood and other wasteland factions. As long as he was at her side, Butch didn’t mind, and if Rosie was happy, so was he. It wasn’t until they put a label on it that she shyly reminded him he owed her a date. That’s when he started his planning—anything for his best gal.

The sun was just setting when he arrived at Craterside Supply, pausing outside the door to adjust his jacket and hair one last time before entering the shop. Inside, Moira and her mercenary were in the middle of a one-sided conversation, the red-head excitedly talking about robots and how to reprogram them. As soon as she noticed Butch, she widened her eyes, clapping her hands together.

“Oh, Butchie, you’re here!” she exclaimed with a grin.

He didn’t mind that Moira called her by the same nickname his ma used to use, though he was sure that if any other woman tried, he’d have more of a visceral reaction. There was something endearing about the shopkeeper, even if her voice grated his ears sometimes, she was Rosie’s closest friend. He tried to mimic her enthusiasm, though he was preoccupied with scanning the room. Moira noticed.

“She’s upstairs getting ready,” she explained before leaning over the counter. “Rosie, my sweet potato! Your lil’ cutie-pie date is here!”

Whatever awkwardness he felt was brief as Butch smiled, listening to the scrambling along the upstairs rafters—was that a hushed curse? —before Rosie appeared along the railing, bright-eyed and breathtaking. She was wearing a baby-blue dress he hadn’t seen before with the same saddle-shoes she always had—mole-rats would fly before she’d ever wear heels. She’d pinned back her long dark hair on both sides with bobby pins, and—were those new glasses? Butch was so fixated on her face that he didn’t realize she’d moved downstairs until she was standing in front of him, wringing her hands together, looking just as anxious as he felt.

He smiled at her, pushing back his nerves as he stepped closer to her. “Hey girlfriend.”

As expected, the term only made her cheeks flush with color even as she kept her eyes focused on his face. “Hey…boyfriend.”

Rosie was too damn cute without even trying and it drove Butch crazy—in all the best ways. He leaned forward, thinking he could steal a quick kiss when two arms came flying between them, one hand landing firm against his chest to push him back several inches.

“Oh no you don’t!” Moira voiced, sternly. Despite the fact she couldn’t be more than a few years older than the two, she preferred to act like some kind of zany mother figure, always wanting to look out for their best interests. Even if that also meant sending them out into the Capital Wasteland on ‘scientific endeavors.’ For science!

“That’s reserved for the end of the night!” she instructed, waving her finger at him. Moira’s expression quickly shifted, eyebrows knitting together. “On second thought, no kissing on the first date!”

Butch stifled back a snicker, thinking about all the fooling around the two had been up to in the last month. Nothing serious, nothing too heated or nefarious, but there’d been more than enough heavy petting and make-out sessions that a finger wag didn’t scare him. “You know that we’ve—”

Rosie reached her hand out to snatch his, giving it a proper pinch that had him yelping into a laugh. She eyed the door. “Should we go?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go, Rosie baby.”

When Butch and Rosie first got back to Megaton, he’d started working on an extravagant date fitting for his best gal. After all, he had a lot of lost time to make up for—all the weeks, or months he’d been skirting around how he truly felt about her before finally making a move…or maybe it went years beyond that. Maybe if he hadn’t been so blind or stupid in his youth to notice the girl of his dreams was right there in front of him all along. Took her father’s death and a vault uprising to bring them together in an uncertain world. But that’s what they were now—together. Of course Rosie deserved the best, even if Butch was limited with resources in the Wasteland. Not a lot a young couple could do in one small town, and he wasn’t about to risk taking her outside the gates. Well, they could leave, but then it would just end up like any other evening, with the two on some kind of shooting spree with raiders or ghouls. Not exactly romantic.

All that anxiety from before was returning, making him second-guess the planned itinerary. What if Rosie thought he was trying too hard, thought he was a square? He pegged her for a gushy romance type, with all those novels she read (yeah, he’d snuck a peek) and he wanted to impress her, even if it wasn’t his usual shtick. The nerves tightened into a ball in the pit of his stomach when he thought about other, lingering fears. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting the ghostly specter of Rosie’s dad to jump out and voice his disapproval.

“Butch?”

He turned his head back to find her looking at him with a mix of concern and confusion, brows furrowed together. Not wanting to worry her, he pressed a quick peck to her cheek—not like Moira could see them now. Rosie instantly brightened, smiling as he tightened his grip around her shoulders.

“Come on,” he nodded his chin, gesturing towards the town’s crater. “Leo saved a table for us at the Lantern.”

Rosie continued to smile in her little way, letting him lead the way down the ramps to Megaton’s only restaurant. Well, the only place to get a reputable meal—Butch wouldn’t dare to take her to Moriarty’s and risk food or radiation poisoning. He upped the gentleman factor, opening the door for her with a cheeky grin before rushing ahead to pull out her chair at their reserved table.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she remarked.

He sat down across from her and chuckled. “Not with the Butch-man it ain’t.”

As soon as Leo Stahl noticed the two sitting in the private corner of the Brass Lantern, he was quick to bring them two bowls of freshly prepared noodles with a couple bottles of ice-cold Nuka-Cola. She flashed a polite smile, and while Butch hungrily dug in, she took slow, careful bites. Though, after a few moments, they both shared similar squeamish expressions, Rosie raising a hand to cover her mouth as she hid her nausea.

Butch poked at the mush of food they’d been prepared. Maybe they’d would’ve been better off at the dive bar after all. “The hell is in this?”

“Even you could’ve made something better,” she laughed behind her hand—at least she wasn’t completely disgusted, or disappointed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, washing away the taste with a swig of cola. “Whole point was getting’ out,” he frowned, struggling to meet her curious gaze. “Sucks those pre-war drive-ins aren’t around, ya’ know I swiped some holoreels from the vault just in case.”

“What didn’t you take?” she asked in a teasing manner. Though, he could tell she was delighted by that last tidbit of information. He always knew she was a movie buff, even if she tried to hide it with her love of the written word. Now, if only he could get his hands on a projector, the possibilities for movie-dates were endless.

Butch sighed, thinking about his stash of Vault-Tech goods. “The good food rations,” he lamented.

“Well…” Rosie paused to drink some of her own Nuka-Cola. “Next time, maybe we should avoid the noodles.”

Next time. At least there was the hopeful promise of a future date. Butch grinned, and relaxed in his chair, comfortable to sit in the amicable silence, just looking across the table at her bright expression. His pride swelled, knowing he was the cause—good—if he had it his way, she’d never stop smiling. When their drinks were empty, he placed a handful of caps on the tabletop to cover the cost of their barely eaten meal before jutting his thumb over his shoulder.

“Let’s blow this joint.”

Outside, Rosie lingered near the neon string of lights, hugging herself as a chill passed through the air. Butch didn’t hesitate to shrug off his Tunnel Snakes jacket, surprising her as he draped it across her shoulders. She initially resisted, raising her arms to push the fabric away, but he continued to wrap it around her slim body until she was practically drowning in black leather. No wonder she never wore the first one he gave her.

Rosie adjusted it around herself, clutching the front lapels in one hand before realizing he was staring at her with a sideways smirk. A blush creeped up her neck and her eyes darted away from his. “W—what?”

Butch reached out to grab her free hand, yanking her close. Still, he looked her over, eyes dancing across her face and body. “Ya’ look cute in that.”

He didn’t think her cheeks could get any brighter. She tilted her head a little so she could get a better look at him, the blue of her eyes sparkling under the lantern lights of the restaurant. She seemed equal parts nervous and excited. “Where to next?”

Fingers laced, Butch walked them back through the city ramps, up to the highest point in Megaton where you could see the landscape of the Capital Wasteland and a perfect view of the stars above. Rosie quickly steadied herself against the railing as she looked up at the nighttime sky, smile instantly widening.

“I found all these books on space, stars and the moon the last time we were in DC, at one of the Museums,” she started, raising one hand to point up at a grouping of sparkles in the sky. “I’ve been learning about constellations and ancient civilizations beliefs on something called astrology.”

He positioned himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she talked, more than she ever had in recent months about anything. At least in a positive, excited manner. Butch couldn’t help but listen, drawn in by the radiant and rare woman he was seeing, as if for the first time. He rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes as she continued to sweetly chatter about the great unknown.

“That line of stars makes up something called the great dipper and those lines make up the cancer constellation, which apparently, correlates to by birthday, and—” she suddenly cut off. Butch peeked open his eyes to find her cheeks were dusted pink. “Oh—I’m rambling.”

He nuzzled his nose against her ear, very much tempted to kiss the exposed patch of skin along her neck. Instead, he hugged her close, mumbling sweet nothings into hair. “Yer adorable, talkin’ about this stuff.”

“R—really?”

Like she needed to be surprised. That time, he pressed a kiss to her temple. Two-for-two. Moira wasn’t going to be happy. “Yeah, Rosie baby,” Butch reassured. “Don’t you know by now I like it when yer all nerdy? You and your big, sexy brain.”

Rosie leaned back into his embrace, head tilted back as she dissolved into a fit of giggles. It was music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but match her laughter, warm with her wrapped up in his arms.

“I don’t think,” she paused to compose herself, turning around to face him. “Nobody’s called me—my brain that before.”

“Yeah well,” Butch shrugged, tightening his grip around her so she couldn’t slip away. He was entranced by the brightness of the blue in her eyes, the shimmer of the stars in the reflection of her glasses. “It’s true.”

She didn’t say anything in return for a long moment, just staring back in a certain kind of wonderment. Finally, she shifted, shivering even as she smiled. “Walk me home?” she asked, quietly.

Butch nodded, adjusting his jacket around her shoulders before lacing their hands again. It was a short walk back to her Megaton home—even if he had a room in the residence, he struggled to call the place theirs. Rosie glanced over to him as their steps slowed outside the structure.

“Unconventional for a first date, considering we live together,” she nervously laughed.

He shrugged. “I can stay somewhere else, if we wanna play into it.”

Rosie shook her head, and a new silence settled over them as they stood there outside the front door just staring at each other expectantly, still holding hands. Butch’s mind blanked, and all the cool confidence he’d gathered throughout the evening fled his body as he forgot all the planning and perfect ways to end the evening.

She flashed him a nervous smile. “You—You aren’t going to give me a kiss goodnight?”

“What?” he blinked himself back into the moment and immediately stepped forward, simultaneously pulling her towards him. He raised his free hand to cup her cheek and grinned. “Course I’m gonna kiss ya’”

Rosie was already beaming. “Oh, good—”

He cut her off with a sweet kiss—nothing overly passionate despite the itching desire to completely ravage her right there against the door. Butch broke away with a sigh and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

She looked at him skeptically. “You aren’t really going to stay somewhere else tonight, right?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he answered, resisting the urge to laugh.

Rosie was quick to pull him back so he was close, lips hovering over hers. She reached back with her other hand for the front door. “Good—I’m not done kissing you yet.”

#fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch deloria x f!lone wanderer #rosie sheridan #otp: it's just a flesh wound #fanfic #babies' first date #'big sexy brain' is the best flirt line #hey look I finally wrote something

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unikornu · 4 years

Note

Alright, let's go with... ❌, 💋, 🧡, 🍋, 🌠 for Lucy aaaand 🔥, 🍐, 🌸 for Harrison?

Thank youuuuu for ask. Good lord it will be long. Let’s go with Lucy first:

❌ What kind of things would end any relationship for them? Is there a history behind why these things bother them? Could they ever take someone back despite this? If so or if not, why?

If her partner would try to keep convincing her to change the way she lives or looks. She likes how she is and assumes if a person ends up in a relationship with her that means they accept her for how she is including the bad traits too. You take the whole package or get the hell out. All her life she heard what is right to do, how a girl should act and so on in a place that was corrupted to the bone so she wouldn’t take it. She lied to her pre-war boyfriend Ian about her criminal job with Harrison and regretted it to the very end so she would rather not pretend in any relationship anymore that she is different person than she is and if one would try to convince her that “sure there is still some goodness in your heart, you just lost it on your way, lemme help you” they are out of that relationship, no way back unless they stop japping their mouth about it. She knows she is bad, she knows she still has a pinch of humanity left, but she likes who she is, accepts it fully and doesn’t take criticisms for it. Hope...it made some sense...uhm.

💋 How affectionate are they with their friends? Their family? Their romantic partner(s) (if they have any)? Are they more physical or emotional when it comes to displaying their affection? Why?

Uhmmm i think i will just write how she would spend time with those who she calls friends and so on if its okay like that. With friends she is more emotional about it rather than physical. She respects the “private distance” which is not very often visible in raider world in public like that.

Lizzie Wyath: She would mostly come late evening into her lab and agree on doing some tests with her. She trust her enough to not expect any holes or explosions in her face at the end of the day. She would always open up to her about her fears and some spicy details about Gage while drinking their asses under the table. Girly chit chats.

William Black: She knows he has a crush on her but doesn’t push the idea of being friends anyway. They would occasionally go on a patrols around Nuka Town if Gage would be occupied with something else or secretly meet at Parlor for a late dinner. She doesn’t mind going a bit more physical around him because of the knowledge that he is interested if Porter wouldn’t be in the way. She would brush his shoulder and even leave him a kiss on a cheek if dinner ended nicely without disruptions but she would stop there. If he would try to kiss her she would just place a finger on his lips and direct him to the side.

Mason: Howling together and organizing shit parties but nothing else. Eventually she would keep assuring him she has her best interest in the pack as well and show her affection by completing a various tasks for him. She would ensure her loyalty to him back as a way of affection.

Also there is Shelbie and Chip Morse along with Maddox. Making friends with traders isn’t a good thing to show around but she shows her affection towards them by keep asking about their needs and manages in the end to get rid of their collars so here she goes fully emotional. Even if they are ladder below them she considers them friends and will often ask about their well being daily.

So in general she mostly goes the emotional way with friends rather than physical but it again depends on many factors like with William as example.

Now for Gage, oh boy. They are partners so she will display all kinds of physical affection later on but mostly in privacy. Brushing his shoulder when tinkering around his rifle, pulling him by his shirt for a kiss out of nowhere, don’t start me on swinging to radio and performing some dance around him like a paradise fucking bird. Because Gage doesn’t like to talk about feelings, neither she actually at that time they just need to look and gaze in each other eyes to know they are freaking good or to spot if anything is wrong. No words needed. Funny thing is that for both of them just saying “i love you” is fucking hard so even after their first time they still didn’t say it but they know. Actions baby, actions.

So she is more emotional towards her friends but going full physical with the partner. Maybe emotions are becoming a bit scary when you lean deeper with someone...Man these questions are hard :))

🧡 Who is your OC’s favourite person? Why is this person the top of their list and have they actually met them (an idol or rolemodel or celeb can be someone’s favourite after all!).

I can’t call any celebrity but from a people who she met it would be probably Rosey, her red-haired co-worker from Sapphire Club in pre-war. She was just perfect for her, beautiful, confident, deadly, efficient and danced as hell, bringing all the eyes in the crowd to her. The outfits always shining and on point. She was a star of that freaking club and she knew it while on the other side being as efficient and more balanced killer than her. Woman of many talents and some deadly ones too. Although the reason she was so good was the fact she was very lonely and no one would miss her if she would die in action so she always pulled herself to the very top, for herself mostly. No regrets whatsoever, neither lies hidden from anybody she cared about but her clients.

🍋 Does your OC act petty and jealous easily? What sort of things make them feel like this and do they experience guilt for getting so worked up? How do they deal with these emotions when they get them? If your OC doesn’t feel like this often, why not?

I couldn’t for shit understand the petty word no matter how deep i would stare in dictionary so i will stick to jealous. She will get jealous when someone would display better knife skills and overall the range of “killer” skills. She was trained to be the perfect little puppy to her owner so the thought of someone eventually showing around and being as good or hell better would strike her in a way. But she wouldn’t bitch publicly about it, neither to Gage. She would deal with it by training harder to the point she would eventually break down mentally if failing to achieve higher level of some skill. She would feel guilt to herself of not being able to do more and eventually just go drink and go for another round of calmex trip just to hear Gage yelling at her again for being irresponsible and stupid and then feeling guilt again for acting on emotions like that. What a healthy carousel for her. If someone would try to flirt with Gage she wouldn’t feel any of it, neither be jealous cus she knows bitch will be dead eventually in some alley anyway if she won’t stop. If Gage tho would go with the flirt along then he will just end up with a decorated beaten eye and very grumpy business partner.

🌠 Who was your OC’s first friend? Do they remember them or are they still friends now? Talk about some of the people your OC has lost contact with over the years. Do they have any regrets about losing these people and would they revist them if they could?

From people she considered friends that are still present even if they were kind of bastards was Harrison as he is the only one that survived the bombs and is all fine and well. He didn’t even age one bit due to being supernatural but he is like past his 40′s. It was a bit of toxic friendship mixed with job but after all they were friends anyway and he cared for her despite what happened. She didn’t make any solid friends as a kid due to her mother’s mental issues and her being the weird scary kid beating boys and girls around who were just looking weird at her.

Ian and Rosey didn’t survive the bombs so they are gone but between these two she would like to have Rosey back as she was her best friend in her criminal life and they worked together (and the idol of sort as i mentioned above). She wouldn’t dare to bring or meet Ian again even if he would be alive because she loved him and she feels guilty as fuck for lying to him all that time but she was too chickenshit scared to reveal anything to him in fear of losing him...well she lost him anyway but yeah.

Harrison’s round now:

🔥 Give us a list of general likes and dislikes, such as colours, textures, music, weather and other stuff!

Its hard to go fallout likes/dislikes for now on him so i will just write what i know so far:

Harrison is a typical classic grumpy man who likes a good glass of whiskey, his white shirts smooth and clean as well as some classic music when he chills around with his legs rested on the table. He smokes a lot too but always with his drink, never without.

He sticks to the same wardrobe choice with neutral colors like his closet would be filled with few pieces of the same coat, hat and shirts. As much as he doesn’t care about variety he cares about quality. His coat is bulletproof as well as his hat. Very practical and experienced man. Hates to get a blood on his white shirt. Will bitch about it.

He actually likes to do job as well with Lucy and Gage later on but pre-war he was forced to stay low due to vault-tech still sniffing around for him to bring him back to the lab and finish the experiment. They never got to him, luckily but he still has to be careful around Institute.

Highly dislikes irresponsible and stupid people who act like Lucy used to. He always likes to have a decent plan, very organized man. As Gage and Lucy he has same likes when it comes to lifestyle but won’t get involved as much as to protect their asses.

He prefers to travel at quiet, cloudy nights, especially when its foggy due to his supernatural skills. He doesn’t like to drag attention. He likes to take night walks around the town when his company is asleep and lowly whistle under his nose while playing with smoke in his fingers and scare nearby raiders who still stroll around by manipulating with objects around. (he can use telekinesis to move objects and sometimes people)

He loves his hat and no one dare to touch it or take it away or you will face a wrath of green smoky goo.

He likes killing in general as an action, he puts his full focus on a task at hand, be it killing or yelling at Lucy for being stupid again.

He does feel guilt for failing to protect his son and family before the war so he likes to show his affection around Lucy and just be around for her with some good advice.

🍐 What is your OC’s mentality? Are they overall positive? Negative? A bit of both? Describe their thought patterns and reasoning behind their choice making!

He is rather negative but due to preference to be rather not surprised in the end, again. Healthy pessimism. In the end he failed a fuckton with protecting his son and became a living experiment without his knowledge nor will so he isn’t the most cheerful old folk but will still crack a joke or smile because he prefers to turn his focus on what’s still left.

He doesn’t dwell much in a past, he is more of “here and now” when it comes to his thought process. He knows he can’t change the past so will focus on current situation but neither without overanalyzing it as much as to just make sure his company is safe. He will turn his focus to Porter too because Lucy cares about him. His mind due to his soul powers mostly works as a set of strong desires and needs at the current moment and will focus on these. But overall he is just a disappointed, tired man who failed a lot back then, regrets it but moves on with a stoic face and uses his powers to protect the ones he cares about, no matter if they are criminals or raiders.

🌸 What does your OC’s voice sound like? Their laugh? Are they good at singing? Do they have an accent?

I must say that i chose Teddy Wright as his “base” to making him in game also due to the voice. I would totally go for that voice, it just fits his looks and even the laugh but would probably add some hoarseness to it as he drinks and smokes quite a lot and no amount of supernatural powers will help you with that. If something would make him laugh real hard he would laugh very loudly but end up with coughing shortly after. He isn’t good at singing but he can whistle really well and even make some bird sounds or whistle whole songs or other interesting sounds.

#rockshortage #thank youuuu #lucy feit #harrison #whoa that was fucking hard but i think i got everything okay #ye that petty word caused me some brain error #also i fucking love how i got idea of Harrison just by taking a shower and now he became like an actual character with feelings and shit #and yeah the teddy voice is just great and i would go for it for him as aswell #and yeah Harrison is supernatural #i decided on that #he has a set of fine and weird skills like that telekinesis #or literally releasing his soul to swallow enemies till dust is left #i wonder what would hector think of him tho...i mean...its not normal occcurance in wasteland

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corvidexoskeleton · 4 years

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The worst case scenario happens and the new Overboss is useless. What is Gage most likely to do? Bail on everything and hope Nisha never finds him? Hope against hope that he can still turn this around and work with the new boss to the end? Decide to just go out with a bang?

Ooooh, now this is a complicated one! >:)

It all depends on how the boss fails and when

So let’s say that it’s right out of the gate. Gage talks them through killing Colter, they have a chat up at the grille, the boss goes and meets the gangs, but they just..... don’t want to put in the effort. Gage and the other bosses nag them and push them to do something, but they’re no better than Colter was. Nisha already had a very close eye on Gage at the time, and the others were likely on their last nerves as well

Mason would get sick and tired of watching shit fail. He admits if you pass that skill check that the only thing stopping him from taking power himself was that he knew the others wouldn’t be behind him. If the new boss isn’t any more better than Colter, than he likely wouldn’t wait and see how things shake out. He’s a man of action, god damn it! He’s alpha! He’s not just gonna sit around and wait for the other two gangs to get an upper hand, especially since he knows they also want to get things done

I don’t remember if it was Nisha or another boss, but iirc one of them says that the gangs aren’t “about to tolerate another round of bullshit”. There’s also something Gage tells you if you chat with him after your first convo, but before talking with the other bosses. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but he says that “the gangs out here” aren’t like the commonwealth gangs, that they’re far more put together and organized, and they expect results

So if the boss fails at the beginning, the gang leaders are already so fucking sick of Gage that they’re absolutely gonna try to take him down with the “boss”. However, since he would have little to no allegiance to the new boss, he’d recognize that nuka world is a lost cause at that point and bail, just like all the other times before

And Nisha will send people after him, maybe even hunt him down herself, depending on how well things shake out for her in the aftermath. I think Gage would have to either take her down himself, or go on a cross-country trip until he got far enough away that she’d leave him be. Maybe head over to the west coast, or up into what used to be Canada, maybe head down towards south America

I think this would be the end result, or at least something similar, up until you get all the parks back. You said earlier that his affinity should be locked by the parks, and I absolutely agree. He shouldn’t feel any significant trust in the boss until they make enough progress and prove they’re worth trusting

After that, things start to get more complicated. If Gage actually feels some trust towards the boss and what they’ve done up until them, then he’d want to try to talk some sense into the boss before they hit a point of no return (which, if I’m not mistaken, is what he tries to do if you lower his affinity). But I don’t think the bosses would have nearly as much patience, because Colter got them as far as he did before slacking off, so they’ll be watching any and all progress made, and waiting for when the new boss eventually craps out like Colter did

Gage would likely try to put up a fight, in the form of him trying to convince the boss to get their shit together, and trying to convince the gangs that it won’t be like Colter, but he still would bail the second he thinks things have become unsalvageable

But what if the boss isn’t turning out to be like Colter or “going soft?” Maybe instead they’re just a different brand of Horrible Raider and do things their own way with no consideration for the other gangs, but still get things done. If Gage thinks that the boss is justified in doing what they want, he’ll stand behind them, but if it’s aggravating the gangs, he’ll try to work with them. If the gangs go against a boss like that, a boss that has people behind them and is more than willing to fight back, then I’ll bet Gage would be willing to fight back as well. Kind of like what happens during Power Play, except.... against all of them, or most of them, instead of just one gang

He’ll still try to bolt, and see if he can convince the boss to bolt with him, if things don’t seem to be shaping out well, but he’s not a fuckin coward; he’ll do everything he can first and foremost to get things straightened out, even if that means taking out the gangs he pulled together in the first place

I don’t think he’s likely to end up in a situation where he’d decide to put up a good fight and go out with a bang. I mean, it’s not impossible, because for all his intelligence and sheer luck, it can’t hold out forever. But when it comes to the gangs, I don’t believe he’d ever end up in that situation. As long as the gangs are all benefiting and reaping the rewards of working together under the overboss, he knows they’re not likely to turn on him and the boss, and he knows what kind of behavior is most likely to keep them happy

But there’s also the possibility that one of the gangs might start to want more (the operators, maybe?) and plot to take out the other gangs, or maybe stage some kind of coup to take control. It’s not super likely, but it’s still not entirely out of the question. Maybe two of the gangs plot to take out a third, or maybe after one gang gets wiped out at the plant the last two each plan to seize power from the other. I don’t know, but lets go with the last one

One of the two remaining gangs pulls a coup and tries to kill the boss and Gage, since we all know by now that they’re a package deal, I still don’t think he’d end up with a “well, there’s no way out of this, might as well go out with a fight” mindset. He almost seems too stubborn to admit that a situation could be unwinnable, kind of like Kirk from from star trek, but with a lot more swearing. He might think to give em one hell of a fight, but he’s not gonna go into it expecting to die. Dying is like, the one thing he’s actively trying to avoid, so he’s gonna fight with everything he’s got to not get killed

tl;dr he’ll fight if he has to, and if he feels it’s justified, but - unless he’s got a good amount of loyalty towards the boss, or is put in a situation where he’s forced to fight and can’t talk his way out of it - he’ll take off if he recognizes that the gangs and/or the boss can’t be reasoned with, I guess is what I’m getting at

He’ll be pissed to hell and back if he has to run, though. Months of work, and quite possibly years of planning, wasted. That almost seems like the kinda thing that would make him want to quit raiding for good, if he managed to make it out alive

#ask #rockshortage #fallout #porter gage #read more

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thewookieruns · 5 years

Text

OC Interview - Erich Richardson

1. Choose an OC

2. Answer them as that OC

3. Tag 5 people to do the same.

I was tagged by @tarberrymentats! I’m for sure tagging @purple-martin111, @mars-colony, and @worthlesssix, but I’m leaving this open for anyone else who see this! Consider yourself tagged! Interview under the break!

1. What is your name?

Captain Erich Richardson, United States Army, 13th Mechanized Calvary Regiment.

2. Any idea why you’re named that?

(shrugs) Not really. I guess mom and dad really liked the name.

3. Single or taken?

In which era of time? (chuckles) Yes. I was married to my high school sweetheart Nora Spencer before... (clears throat) She’s... passed on. I’m now married to a one Ms. Piper Wright.

4. Any abilities or powers?

Um... no. Unless you count being able to sleep anywhere or being able to run long distances.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue

Um... okay? Don’t know why you’d say that, but okay.

6. What color are your eyes?

Brown~ish amber? I’m not sure. I’ve been told both.

7. What about your hair color?

I’d say it’s brown. Piper, on the other hand, would say that there’s a trace of red in there.

8. Do you have any family members?

(shifts uncomfortably in seat) Uh... that’s complicated. I have a son and my wife, but beyond that, no. Unless you count my friends, then yes. Most of my biological family either died before the Great War or very soon after.

9. Oh... What about pets?

Oh yeah hahaha. Dogmeat is my dog. Smartest pup you’ll meet in the Commonwealth, and the best dog to boot.

10. Ain’t that the truth. Now what is something that you don’t like?

I’d have to say that I’m not a fan of having to raising my son in the post-apocalypse, but that’s a little out of my hands.

11. What is your favorite hobby?

This might sound weird, but I enjoy running. We had to run in the army for PT, but I also ran competitively while I was in school. I love getting my laps in around the Island, and to run down the streets of downtown. If the place wasn’t crawling with things that would love to kill me, I’d love to run the old Boston Marathon route. I also really like tinkering with my power armor, making sure it’s the best in the Commonwealth.

12. Have you hurt anyone in any way before?

Define “hurt”... either way, I’m pretty sure I have.

13. I guess a good follow-up question would be have you killed anyone?

(shifts awkwardly in seat again and stare at the floor. silence for a few moments before he responds) Yeah. More than my fair share.

14. What are some of your worst habits?

Wow, hitting with the hard questions? Um... I swear too much, sleep too little or sleep too much, and I can be really rude to everyone.

15. Who would you say are your role models?

Oh boy... Before the war, it was my dad. He’s the one who was always strong, always shouldered the burdens that were put on his shoulders. I wanted to be like him when I grew up. I’ve been pretty lucky to meet some people out here who inspire me to be better, particularly Nick Valentine. Nick really took me under his wing when I first stumbled into Diamond City, and I try every day to live in a way that would make him and dad proud.

16. Do you go to school?

The only school I go to right now is the school of wasteland survival. Before the war, I went to Utah Institute of Technology and Agriculture, as well as The United States Military Academy. I studied general engineering at both, which I can tell you has come in handy in so many ways out here in the Commonwealth.

17. Do you ever want to get married and have kids?

Come on, man, I told you I’m already married and have a kid hahaha. Now... having more kids? I dunno man. Piper and I have kinda talked about it ever since Shaun joined our family. It’s just... The world now is so different, and I don’t know if I could bring another kid into the world like this one.

18. Any fangirls/boys?

Um... I mean, I think Curie might be a little sweet on me, but she feels like she owes me a lot for what I’ve helped her through. Paladin Danse and Hancock, maybe. Both have a hard time admitting I’m a better shot haha.

19. What are you most afraid of?

Deathclaw packs. There was a dinosaur movie that came out a few years before the Great War called Triassic Sanctuary. In the movie, a certain type of dinosaur hunted in packs, and were hyper-intelligent. Deathclaws are like that, but ten times worse. Other than that, I hate how ferals seem to pop out of nowhere.

20. What do you normally wear?

Depends on what I’m doing. If I’m here in the Commonwealth, it’s my Vault 111 jumpsuit with my armor. If I’m back on the homestead on Spectacle Island, generally a t-shirt and jeans.

21. What is your favorite food?

Pre-war? Mom’s funeral potatoes. Now? Preston and I have got a pretty good deathclaw steak recipe figured out. Do NOT ask how long it took us to get it figured out. Or how many fusion cells we used in the process.

22. In what economic class would you put yourself?

Seriously dude? Pre-war, Nora and I were comfortably middle class. Now? I’m no Upper-Standser, but I make enough to get by well enough.

23. Do you have many friends?

Yeah, I’ve got people that I consider friends. But I’ve got more that I consider my family.

24. What is your favorite drink?

I’m a fan of cherry vanilla Nuka-cola, but it is a little scarce here in the Commonwealth these days. It was everywhere out west in the Four States Commonwealth pre-war.

25. What are your thoughts on pie?

That I haven had a legit banana creme pie in over two centuries...

26. What is your favorite place?

I love Spectacle Island. I love how it’s removed from everything, and it’s peaceful. Sanctuary has a special place in my heart, too, but it’s really difficult to stay there without Nora...

27. That makes me wonder; what was Nora like?

Oh man, where to start... The first thing I noticed when I first saw her was her smile, and how it just lit up a room. She had this infectious laugh that made me feel like I was flying. But she was tough. She was the captain of our high school’s women’s track team her junior and senior years. She was a fast, tough, and gutsy runner, which translated into how tough she was in general. But she was smart, a whole lot smarter than me. To be honest, she knew just as much about engineering from helping me get through classes on top of her law classes.

28. So is it safe to say that Piper is a lot like Nora? Do you have a type?

If by type you mean tough, compassionate women who push me to be better than I would be on my own, then yes; yes I do.

29. Where would you rather swim, the ocean or a lake?

Nothing can beat swimming in the Bear Lake on the Utah-Idaho border, especially during raspberry season. I never learned how bad it is back west...

30. Any last thoughts?

Nope, not that I can think of.

#fallout 4 #oc interview #sole survivor #Piper Wright #preston garvey #nick valentine #paladin danse #Dogmeat #fallout 4 fanfic

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doublerumnukacola · 5 years

Text

Second Last Dance

They emerged from the State House the sound of the crowds around them a little overwhelming. She’d never seen Good Neighbor this packed. It was suffocating for her to be surrounded by the drunken masses.

Then they caught sight of Hancock and the crowd surged towards them. Sole stepped backwards to the State House as Hancock stepped forward, passing out what remained of his chem stash like he was giving out candy.

It felt exactly like pre-war Halloween, complete with kids in costumes. Some were hobos, gangsters, clowns, zombies… And to think the latter was the most friendly of the bunch. She leant against the disintegrating white paint of the ancient building as the last of the Mentats were distributed, the final tin having to be yanked from Hancocks leathery fingers. He gave a sigh as the crowd dispersed. Maybe in relief, or regret. She came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you need a drink.” She noted, he turned to look back at her with a thin, tired, smile. “Maybe a few drinks, actually.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sister.” He admitted. “Haven’t had a straight drink in awhile. Usually spritze it up with a few Daytripper. For taste, of course.”

“Ohno, not tonight.” She chuckled, spinning him around to face her. “Doctors orders, you’re already pushing it with drink.” He shrugged, old habits die hard. She could tell she would have her work cut out for her. She was going to have to keep him away from temptation...

-------------------------------------------

The sky above GoodNeighbor was dotted with faint stars against a deep, dark blue. The Sun said its last goodbyes at the Horizon, lingering like an unwanted house guest. The lamp lights glowed, waiting to be spotlights for the party. Magnolia had moved outside the Rexford, music playing from an old prewar speaker Daisy’d had in her attic. The usual upbeat jazz set was playing with Mags lending her sultry voice.

Sole and Hancock were drinking on the balcony of the State House, in an attempt to keep him distracted from the slurry of chems making their way through the crowd. The rum tasted like medical disinfectant mixed with cinnamon, but it kept them happy enough.

“I gotta ask somethin’.” Hancock started, taking a swig from the clear glass bottle, the dark liquid rushing to meet him. “What was it like, before… All this?” She shrugged and glanced away. It was question she got a lot. She’d had a lot of time to think of a good answer.

“Honestly, not great.” She answered bluntly. He nearly choked on his next swig of drink, spluttering it on the party goers below them. She smirked as a few held up their hands, checking for rain with confused faces. Hancock turned to look at her, and she continued. “We had prisoner camps in our own country, secret police, not to mention Vault-Tech.” She mused, remembering what life had really been like. “At the time, I kept my head down. I told myself it would all change after the war… I guess I was right...” Her hands gripped the railing, the ancient wood was feeble beneath her fingers.

“Looking back though, how could I have done so little? I had friends taken in the night; my colleagues who had tried to defend innocent people accused of treason… And I did nothing.” She took a breath. “And here, in the wasteland, I make a difference.” She smiled over at Hancock. “And everything is different, people here, in Good Neighbor, they’re free. Really free. You would never have had that before the war. Not for long anyway...”

“It’s funny…” He smiled back at her, “Daisy always makes it sound like Heaven on Earth...”

“Daisy’s had a long time to romanticise it.” Sole sighed. “For me, it’s just been a couple months...” Something about those words stuck in her throat. Months, centuries… What’s the difference?

Hancock could have kicked himself. He finally had a moment to himself with Sole, and he has to bring the mood down with a question like that. His stomach was turning, not quite agreeing with the rum and snack cakes. Or maybe it was something else. Something that hadn’t twisted his insides in awhile. Sole was looking forlorn at the street below, was it too late?

Then a commotion on the street caught his attention. The music stopped, the speakers softening to a silence. Kent was talking to Magnolia excitedly, holding some tapes in his hand.

“What’s going on there?” Sole asked, eyes brightening a little with curiosity.

“Not sure,” Hancock admitted, “Some scavver sold him some old broken Silver Shroud tapes. Guess he got them working.” She looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah, Kent’s actually pretty good with fixing Holotapes. It’s how he’s gotten all those old radio plays.” Her fingers flitted over her Pipboy for a moment, before returning to the railing. Hancock pretended not to notice.

“You think we’re about to hear another tale of the Shroud?” She asked with a small smile. “I should have dressed for the occasion.” His eyes dipped over the rose pink dress.

“Oh, I think you’re dressed just fine...” He muttered. Suddenly the street burst into music, and instead of Magnolia, sweet little Kent was stood at the mic. The tune sounded familiar, a tinny trumpet playing. The nostalgia made her smile.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

There was a tap at her shoulder, she looked back at Hancock holding a hand out to her. Her smile faltered. He kept his hand out, but there was a slight tremble to his fingers.

“Can’t help staring, huh?” He chuckled, a nervous edge to his voice.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And the cares that hang around me through the week Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

His hand started to fall, it was a stupid gesture. Why would a dame like that- Her fingers wrapped around his and he was pulled close. His heart nearly shot through his chest.

“We can’t waste a song like this, can we?” She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his hand. He swallowed, but threw on a cocky grin.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

Oh! I love to climb a mountain, And to reach the highest peak, But it doesn't thrill me half as much As dancing cheek to cheek Oh! I love to go out fishing In a river or a creek, But I don't enjoy it half as much As dancing cheek to cheek

It was awkward, on that small balcony, two people used to a bigger dance floor. It could have been a waltz, or a tango. But all onlookers saw was two people tripping over each other’s feet, hands clinging loosely to the other as they held each other, laughing uncontrollably.

Dance with me I want my arm about you The charm about you Will carry me through to heaven I'm in heaven And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

They could barely breathe, tumbling to the balcony floor. Holding their sides now as the laughter subsided. The music played on, but Kent was stepping off the small platform, handing the mic back to Magnolia. They’d just about missed his whole performance. They’d have to ask for an encore later.

“I think, we had better get down.” Hancock noted breathlessly. “Don’t think this old place was built to handle that kind of movement.” She smiled and nodded, rubbing out the soreness of her face from the laughter.

“Hey, thanks for that.” She said gratefully, pulling herself to her feet.

“Sure thing, Sister.” He said with a dismissive wave, “What are friends for?” Friends? He kicked himself as he followed her back into the State house. I mean, yeah, she’s his best friend. But he had the chance to make a move and he… He said they were just friends? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey, Hancock?” Sole called from his office. He looked over, and she was holding two cone shaped party hats. “I fished these from behind your sofa, want one?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not sure that would fit over the ‘ol tricorn…”

-----------------------------------------------

The party was intense. As the night drew on, the top shelf liquor started to flow. The world seemed to spin for everyone. Magnolia sung on, and when her voice was at its limits, they put on Kents broadcast of the Silver Shroud, prompting some waggling eyebrows from Hancock to Sole. As the party waned, the drifters passing out one by one, the broadcast turned to Classical Radio. No one dared put on Diamond City around Sole, she tended to get a little shooty with the radios as soon as she heard Travis’s voice. By then, the liquor had all but run out, and the few left awake in Good Neighbor sat in the square, drinking nuka cola of all things.

Sole and Hancock were some of the few party goers left awake. They lay on the cobblestones of the square, looking up at the night sky. Hancock even had Fahrenheit shut off all the lamps so the stars would seem brighter, but left the Christmas lights on at Sole’s request. The air was cold, Sole’s jacket came in useful to keep off the chill as they lay still under the night sky. Sole couldn't help but glance from the sky to the ghoul beside her, who was animatedly telling her about the patterns in the stars, in his own way.

“... And that one is the bent frying pan.” Hancock continued, pointing up at a constellation. “My old man used to say it was part of a yao-gui in the sky, but I can't see it myself.”

“Funny, before the war it was the big dipper.” Sole added softly, returning her gaze to the stars in question.

“What the hell is a dipper?” Hancock demanded, genuinely perplexed. Sole shrugged her shoulders.

“I think it’s like a ladle.” She answered unsuredly.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Hancock said, squinting a bit.

“Nah, I liked yours better. People know what a bent frying pan is.” Sole admitted. She looked again at the stars. She raised her hand and pointed to a constellation with three bright stars and cornered with four more. “So what’s that one?”

“Well that’s easy.” Hancock answered smugly. “It's the Vault boy with his dick out.” Sole turned to look at Hancock incredulously. “What? You can see it right there! Just below those three stars is a flaccid cock! What did you used to call it?”

“Orion, and those three stars are his belt… And the one below are meant to be his… Knife.” Sole replied awkwardly. Hancock laughed. Yeah, ‘knife’ wasn't believable.

“So who’s Orion?” Hancock asked, stretching an arm out and putting it behind his head.

“Oh, I actually know this.” Sole gushed excitedly, sitting up and turning to him. “Orion was this hunter in ancient Greece, and he used to hunt with this goddess Artemis. But her brother got jealous and made a huge scorpion to kill him.” Sole leant forward, Hancock could tell she was getting to her favorite part, she always did that when telling stories. “In her grief, Artemis placed Orion in the sky so he could live forever in the stars. But her brother put the scorpion up there to chase him through the heavens for eternity, you know, like an asshole.”

“Fuck, so there are Rad-scorpions in the sky too?” Hancock asked incredulously. She smiled at the joke. He liked to think he could do better than that. “Ancient Greece, huh?” He continued. “Sounds familiar, is that like the lard Daisy uses in her mirelurk cakes?” Sole laughed and shook her head. “Yeah then I'm sticking to the naked Vault boy.” Sole shook her head, still grinning, and laid down again. Looking at the constellation again, she could completely see it. And now she could never UN-see it!

“Give me another one!” Hancock urged, giddy more from being over-tired than drunk. Sole shook her head.

“Those were the only ones I knew.” Sole sighed, yawning. She rested her eyes.

“Come on, you can't sleep here, you'll wake up feeling the way I look.” Hancock advised. He shakily got up, brushing the dust off his coat. “Here, let me help you.” He extended his hand once again, but he was in no shape to help anyone. Luckily she waved it away.

“Leave me alone…” She murmured. “It's comfy here…” He sighed. He couldn't carry her to save his life. He looked around for someone to help him, but everyone was either too tired, too stoned, or too Kleo.

Then he heard soft snores come from his feet. He looked down and she was out cold on the cobblestones. He knew from experience what waking up with a hangover felt like on these rocks, and it wasn't pleasant, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Muscles…

-----------------------------------------------

Macready was a coward and he knew it. He sat on Daisy’s back porch, smoking his last cigarette. The music had long since died down, and the revelers had passed out.

“You better be using an ashtray.” Daisy muttered beside him. She had a bottle of beer in her hand, leaning against the screen door behind her. The old lady may have been a serial complainer since he arrived, but she enjoyed the company.

“Sure thing,grandma.” He joked, tipping the end of the ash into a dingy ceramic ashtray. She was too tired to smack him for that comment, she could only grumble. There was a quiet as he took one last drag and ground out the cigarette, glowing embers dying in the blackened ash.

“You’re running out of time, Mac.” Daisy said softly. He crossed his arms. He knew she was right. Didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I mean it. If you want any future with her, you had better fix things soon.”

“And what if she’s over it?”

“Then you can at least apologise for being an ass.”

He was quiet, he did owe her that. He stood up, dusting off his pants. There were voices still in the square, he knew who they were, as much as he’d tried to ignore them. It was time he stopped running away.

-----------------------------------------------

Then footsteps on the cobblestones caught his attention. He turned around to see Macready emerging from the alley. He nodded to Hancock as he approached, and scooped up Sole quietly. She barely stirred as he held her.

“Hiding in the dark? Trying to take sunglasse’s M.O.?” Hancock asked in annoyance. Macready didn't say a word, ignoring him as he shifted Sole’s weight so he could carry her more comfortably. There wasn't a damn thing Hancock could do. At least the bastard could get her to her room safe. Hancock leaned close, narrowing his coal black eyes.

“So much as a hair out of place when she wakes up, and I’ll make a wind chime out of your dick.” He hissed quietly. Macready furrowed his brow.

“How would you even do that?” Macready asked, more curious than threatened.

“I'm a creative guy.” Hancock answered darkly. Macready just shrugged and started towards the Rex. Hancock watched him go, silently seething. Had he lost his touch? I mean it all sounded pretty threatening. Maybe it was the party hat he had strapped to his head. Yeah that was probably it.

#john hancock #hancock #fanfic #fallout 4

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antiquechampagne · 5 years

Text

Beastly Kingdom - CH10 - Steam

Gage stomped across the courtyard, muttering angrily as he pushed people out of his way. He was steaming. He had a front row seat to the wholesale slaughter of one-third of their people, his people. Not that he held a lot of love for the psychopaths that made up the Disciples. They murdered without thought or care for the consequences, taking life for the pure joy in it… but they were still one of the Nuka-World gangs. They deserved better.

With the stench of fresh blood burning his senses, he wanted answers.

The Overboss had already made her way off the stage by the time he reached her. Gage could feel his temperature rise, his pulse pound. She was smiling as she spoke to those around her.

Without thinking, he reached out, roughly grabbing her arm. “What the flying fuck do you think you’re doing up there?” he growled. The Overboss stopped mid-sentence. She looked down as his hand and then back to his face. Along with a deep warning snarl from the creature behind him on stage, Liz’s annoyed stare prompted Gage to abruptly release his grip.

Liz waved her hand to calm her beast, her eyes locked on his. She turned to the Minuteman General standing next to her. “Please excuse me. I will meet you in the café shortly. I need to take care of something.” The ghoul turned to Gage, fury stirring deep behind her red-rimmed eyes. “Market. NOW.”

Gage followed behind her as she unlocked the empty trading center. His rage was still fresh, but it was now tempered by his proximity to her deadly wrath. She slammed the door shut behind them.

Gage couldn’t stop the words from leaving his lips, his volley meeting her turned back. “What the fuck are you thinking? You just murdered a whole gang of raiders out there! Do you have any idea what the fuck you are doing?”

She slowly turned to face him. “Of course, I do!”

Gage started to open his mouth again, his face red hot, but stopped as Liz raised a disfigured hand. Gage noticed what door they had entered the market though… the door closest to the weapon dealer’s stall. Did she make a mistake, or was this a calculated risk? Was this some kind of test?

“I put down a faction that wasn’t on-board with my plan and would have stabbed us all in the back the first chance they got. We’re better off without that bunch of psychos. The remaining gangs are so much easier to handle.”

Gage took in the information. He tried to temper his next words carefully. “Without the help of those psychos, how do you suggest we defend ourselves, then?”

“Didn’t you listen?” The Overboss rubbed her temples. “Let me make this simpler for you.” She looked down at him as if he was a stupid newbie. “Being a raider works great if you keep the operation small. A handful of raiders can keep themselves a float with smash and grabs, no problem. A small network of us can even share intel, coordinating attacks so the locals can’t prepare, crap like that. But here in Nuka-World, we have something different. We have thousands of raiders, all in one spot. No close settlements for us to shake down, nothing for us to raid. We can’t pick up and quickly book it to a new spot if Nuka-World get’s attacked. We produce nothing and barely bring in enough to feed our numbers. Shit, it’s hard enough to stop these morons from shanking each other for fun. Right now, it’s just one big circle-jerk.”

Gage chewed on these facts… sour facts he knew all too well.

“So…” The Overboss continued, “We have two choices. We could expand into the Commonwealth, crush the folks into submission out there. Great idea, but there are two problems with that. There are two HUGE forces out there would give us trouble if they decided they didn’t like our conquest of their precious settlements. Could we take them on? One at a time and with enough preparation, maybe… but if the Commonwealth settlements turn to the Minutemen for protection from the big-bad Nuka-World raiders, now we have to fight for each inch of ground we take. Let’s say we start to overwhelm the Minutemen? Guess who they run for help next? The Brotherhood, that’s who. No way in hell can we take a war on both fronts with that kind of firepower. We won’t survive. No one thinks twice about putting down a raider.”

“What would stop them from pulling that shit now? If you think that General gives a damn about us, you’re just as insane as the Disciples. Those Minutemen aren’t part of us, Boss!” he spat back.

The Overboss crossed her arms. “No, they aren’t a part of us. And we aren’t part of the Commonwealth… yet! At best they look at us as nothing but bunch of bullies, murderers at worst… but if they come to rely on Nuka-World brand chems and Nuka-World brand muscle to guard their precious little pile-of-crap farms? We become part of the fabric of their society. They’ll rely on us, trust us. We slip into their lives, inch by inch, and they won’t be able to do anything without us. And we sit back on our giant pile of caps high above it all in Fizztop, happy as ‘lurk queen in Quantum.” Her twisted shit-eating smile returned. “And all we have t’do to kick this whole thing off is pop a big metal balloon. We’ve got it made, all thanks to me.”

The logic of the move, as extreme as it was, started to make some kind of sense to Gage. He took a step back. Something itched at the back of his mind. He was still mad.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” The words felt heavy in this mouth.

“You think I don’t trust you. That I couldn’t trust you with this.” She replied coolly, searching his face for the answer. “Gage.” The Overboss stepped forward, just inches away from his face. She almost looked a little sad. “I don’t trust anyone but myself.” She walked away from him, casually inspecting the weapons on a nearby table, her hands trailing over as she continued to speak. “What really matters is…” She turned over a shiny silver handgun before putting in back down. “Are you on-board with the plan? You brought me into this outfit.”

She came to another weapon, stopping in front of it. Picking up the metal frame, ran a finger up one of the three desiccated deathclaw fingers, tracing the curve of the giant hooked claw. What she said next shocked Gage. Not because she was threatening his life, but because she sounded almost remorseful.

“I’d truly hate to see you removed from it. Now, I have work to do.” She glanced at him as she put the gauntlet down then walked out of the market.

#fanfic #fan fic #fan fiction #ao3 #fallout #fallout 4 #nuka world #Gage #liz #beastly kingdom

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lookbluesoup · 5 years

Text

OC Interview Meme

Tagged by @tarberrymentats and @wastelandwandererstuff B)

SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO GET TO THIS GUYS spring break kept me busy xD But I AM BACK NOW AND READY TO ANSWER THESE TAGS THANK U ALL <33 It’s been a blast getting to read about everyone’s Fallout characters ;w; I’m trying to get braver about leaving comments/reblogs but in the meantime just know I SEE YOUR AWESOME CHARACTERS and I APPRECIATE THEM.

This was actually a challenge answering from Nate’s POV xD There’s stuff that I KNOW ABOUT HIM AND WANT TO SHARE but he wouldn’t volunteer or he wouldn’t view the same way so… take it for what it is! And feel free to ask questions! ;w;

It is long. Long long long. Not sorry. 16, 19, 28, and 33 are my favorites c;

1. What is your name?

Oh. Wow. We’re starting this interview off with some tough ones, hunh? Uhh… hm. My name. My name… Let me think. (overly dramatic pause) Nathaniel Christian Ronan? Yeah. That sounds right.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

I was told my name means “God has given,” because my parents didn’t actually think they’d be able to have a second kid. That and Pops was an army chaplain - wanted me to have a name reflecting the faith. He was very literal in his approach. Ronan is an Irish surname, which seemed a lot more important 200 years ago than it does today. It means… uh, oh, shoot, I used to know… Don’t worry, it’ll come to me.

3. Are you single or taken?

(chuckles) Sorry folks, my roving days are over. Got a nosy reporter waiting for me back in Diamond City... whatever time I’ve got left I’m giving it to her.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

Powers? What, like, superpowers? That’d be awesome but, hah, no. Though I’ve been told my ability to talk myself out of trouble is uncanny. My martinis were legendary, and still would be if I find the ingredients for them in this apocalyptic wasteland. Friends say I’ve got a good ear for music… Oh, and ventriloquism. That’s always fun.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I know you are but what am I?

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue, like my grandmother. (blinks dramatically several times for emphasis)

7. How about your hair color?

Coal back. (runs a hand through it almost nervously) And holding up better than the rest of me, considering the complete lack of well-deserved grey hair.

8. Have any family members?

I have a son, Shaun. Piper gave me roots, and Nat’s pretty much my little sister, too, at this point. The Railroad’s been more family to me than most of my own blood ever was.

9. Oh? How about pets?

Legs Washington, an orphaned radstag I brought to the Castle. He’s a bit of a mascot for the men, follows Shaun everywhere. Yeah, it’s adorable.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

You guess? Look, after this interview, I’m taking you to the Castle to meet them yourself. Your life will be changed. There’s plenty to dislike about the Commonwealth, enough to go mad over. It’s not exactly the charming old homestead of days gone by. But we’re making it better one day at a time.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Hah! “Duck and Cover” is a big one. Got me suspended from Railroad HQ once, though. I still say that was Deacon’s fault. I like long walks through the woods, playing baseball with Shaun, and a General’s work is never done but it does bring fulfillment. I like all those activities infinitely better when Piper’s around. Is that mushy? God, that sounds mushy. (smiles shamelessly)

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yeah. Some deserved it… some I’m still trying to make up for.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

(stops smiling) Yeah. I have. You want a kill count? Six-word soundbites about all the blood and screams and the way men look when they realize they’re about to die? It’s not a fun fact. It’s not fun. Next question.

14. Name your worst habits?

I’m afraid that information’s classified. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. OH! LITTLE SEAL. That’s what Ronan means! Yeah, you know, like, selkie babies.

15. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

Aha… seriously? I’m Pipersexual, end of story. Unless you count the undying affection between my best mate Deacon, and me, which I’ve been told occasionally inspires jealousy. Honestly, I never gave putting a name to my romantic inclinations much thought. It’s always been women, but maybe I just never met the right man.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Piper, for sure. She’s - the way she sees the world? It gives me hope. She’s brave, brave enough to fight for what she believes in. No matter how bad it gets she always finds a light to hold onto, somehow, and keep going. And she’s genuine. I didn’t know what courage really was until I met her. Scribbles’ friendship is… a hell of a lot more than I deserve. I wouldn’t be the same without it. And, God, she’s funny. Sweet, and - a-ha, hm… we’d be here all day if I tried to list all the reasons why I love her.

I also have immense respect for Nick Valentine. He’s a good guy. Without ‘im, I might still be chasing my tail out in the woods somewhere. Or worse. Nick was a friend to me when I needed it most, put everything on the line to help me find my son - didn’t even hesitate. I’ll never be able to repay him for that.

17. What kind of animal are you?

One of a kind. (winks)

18. Do you go to school?

The Commonwealth has a way of schooling everyone, doesn’t it? I’m a bit too old for arithmetic and hall passes, but I never stop learning, if that’s what you mean.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I’-ve… been down that road before. (breaks eye contact abruptly) Times were uncertain enough when Shaun was born. Now? Scribbles and I roll the dice every day of our lives. Asking her to marry me – starting over – was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. A baby would be, uh, a really big change. (smiles briefly, uncertain) Maybe if – no, I don’t know. Piper’s never shown any desire for something like that. If she did – even if she did... (sighs) I – look. Let’s just move on, okay?

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

Oh yeah, I have an ensemble of groupies that follow me around the wasteland with a pack brahmin and an eyebot.They pitch my tent for me and cook all my meals. I pay for services with my autograph instead of caps. (rolls eyes, but keeps a smile)

21. What are you most afraid of?

Losing someone I love. I know we don’t get any guarantees out here in the wasteland, but… loss never gets any easier. It makes it hard to open up, y’know? I spent a long time keeping folks who cared about me at arm’s length, and some days it’s still a challenge.

22. What do you usually wear?

What you see is what you get! Derbys, slacks, a shirt as white as I can get it in these conditions, and a black vest, because that never goes out of style. My favorite hat is - take a look at this. It’s a bicorne. Has anyone worn that since the French Revolution? It’s great. I love it. Piper doesn’t.

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

You know what I miss? Chocolate. I’d kill for chocolate. … kidding.

24. Am I annoying to you?

Hah! I married a journalist. This is just another Tuesday.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Look, if I’m not back by seven…

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I mean… it’s not like anyone’s ‘wealth’ compares to what it was like before the war. I’m not living off charred molerat, but I certainly won’t be moving into the Upper Stands anytime soon. Most of what I have, I made myself.

27. How many friends do you have?

More than I deserve. Piper and Deacon are probably my two best friends though. Nick, Preston, and Kent oughta be mentioned, too.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

You mean those damn perfectly preserved slices stuck in the Port-A-Diners? God, I’ve tried everything. I spent an entire afternoon trying to break in. What is the glass even made of? I couldn’t put a scratch on it. You have to just keep pushing the button. Over and over. I’m convinced it’s all some Vault-Tec conspiracy. There is no pie. The pie is a lie. Piper says she managed it once, but I don’t believe her.

29. Favorite drink?

Nuka cherry! No question.

30. What’s your favorite place?

There’s a spot up at the top of Diamond City. I mean the top top, even higher than the Stands. Clear night with a full moon? You can see for miles. Can’t be beat.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

You’ve - been listening, right? Aha, was I unclear about being madly in love?

32. That was a stupid question…

You’d be surprised how often it gets asked. (chuckles)

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Lake. Definitely. I’m marginally less likely to get eaten there. That being said, I was up in Maine once, went out to pick lure weed. You know, those radioactive yellow flowers that grow in muddy ponds? Bad idea.Terrible idea. Maine is a terrible place and I will not be building a summer home there e-ver.

34. What’s your type?

Kickass reporters with the brightest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, hair like Aphrodite, and a smile to make you melt.

35. Any fetishes?

Look, you’re very nice. Really. And I appreciate the interest, but ah, this isn’t any of your business. Only one person gets to ask me about those and - you aren’t her.

36. Camping or outdoors?

Camping? Oh man, those were the days. An RV trip would be the bomb. It’s not much of an option these days. But I’m used to sleeping rough, and I gotta admit, it has its charm.

#anyone who hasn't done this is tagged #nate ronan #meme #tag #oc interview #screenshot #pipan #piper x sole #fallout #fallout 4

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the-desert-dancer · 5 years

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I got tagged by the amazing @vaultsexteen, so Imma try and do this with my newest Courier, Solomon Tilo. I hope this is good? Anyway lets start this!

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer them as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same

1. What is your name?

Its Solomon. Solomon Tilo

2. How old are you?

Well daddy dearest never bothered keeping track of that information, so how should I know? 40, maybe.

3. What do you look like?

Someone you don’t wanna piss off, that good enough of an answer? I’m tall, bulky, and got a face not even a mother could love.

4. Where are you from? Where do you live now?

No place you’ve ever heard of. I come from Cave Creek, a place in what used to be Arizona. See, I knew you wouldn’t know where it is. Anyway, where I live now? I’m currently stuck in the Mojave, but I don’t have any permanent location. I prefer it that way.

5. What was your childhood like?

Oh my childhood was just delight after delight. Forced to participate in fights to the death in the afternoon, beaten like a dog by my drunk dad in the evening. Absolutely delightful childhood, it was. Happy you brought it up now?

6. What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

Allies? All allies are, are people who haven’t stabbed you in the back yet. So no, I am not ‘allied’ with any faction. I’m friendly enough with the NCR, long as they don’t go sticking their nose in my business.

7. Tell me about your best friend.

Didn’t you just hear me talking a few seconds before? I ain’t got no allies or friends, just the way I like it. So stop asking me dumb questions, before I start getting really pissed off.

8. Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

I have a family, but it ain’t none of your business who they are. Next question.

(Author’s Note: Solomon has three younger siblings, all of whom currently reside within NCR territory).

9. What about a partner or partners?

Do I look like the type of man interested in sex? Its what causes men in my line of work to get killed; they sleep around, let their guard down, and sooner than later they end up with a knife in their chest and their caps stolen.

10. Who are your enemies, and why?

Oh, the Legion easily. As much of a bastard as I am, I ain’t into the flesh trade. Unlike a lotta people, I’ve been in Legion territory; my old home town got burnt to the ground by the Legion, the only good thing those Bull fuckers have ever done. But the things I’ve seen Legion soldiers do to their captives...that shit is too much even for me, and I once curb stomped a guy’s head into the pavement til it was just red paste.

11. Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

Yeah, I heard of them. Once all big and mighty, hoarding tech and acting all superior to everyone else. Now? Now they’re just rats, hiding in their little caves, praying no-one finds them. I would feel bad for them, if I gave a shit.

12. What about The Enclave?

*Solomon lets out a loud laugh* Oh the big bad Enclave, the boogie man of the Wasteland. All the time when I was a kid, I had to hear stories about just how scary the Enclave was, about all the horrible ways they could take me or my family away and no-one will ever see them again. Now? They’re just ghosts, a forgotten memory. So why should I be concerned about the dead, huh?

13. How do you feel about Super Mutants?

Only thing in the Wastelands uglier than me. Most of those Muties are crazier than a Jet addict going through withdrawals and deserve to be put down. Simple.

14. What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

I’ve been fighting for years, things tend to blend together for me honestly. If I had to choose...it’d have to be this fight I had years ago, with this Great Khan, I don’t even know what his name was. This fucker was hopped up on so many chems, he just wouldn’t go down. I broke his fingers, his nose, even his goddamn right knee. He just kept getting back up and charging me, screaming like a freaking lunatic. Took a bullet to the brain to finally put his ass down.

15. Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

You know, I once knew a mercenary, name was Obu. Big guy, dumb as bricks. Fancied this girl who wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Well Obu got it into his big dumb brain that if he killed a Deathclaw and brought its head back as a trophy, then this girl would finally give a shit about him. Well when the search party finally found Obu, half of him was spread out across the ground and the other half was in a Deathclaw’s belly.

Why did I tell you that little story? Well do you think I’m as fucking stupid as Obu was? Cause you don’t fuck with Deathclaws, you give them a goddamn wide berth.

16. Do you like fighting?

If that ain’t a loaded question...*Solomon chuckles, shaking his head*. No, not really. I hate it, every fucking second of it. Reminds me of when daddy dearest forced me to fight people to the death when I was just a kid. But ya know what? I use that in my fights. That anger, that hatred, that fucking fury, into beating up anyone that gets in my way. I want them to know just how I feel, when Im kicking their teeth in.

17. What’s your weapon of choice?

Whatever I can reach for. In the mercenary business, you can’t get too attached to your weapons; shit breaks after a while. But when push comes to shove? I can always rely on my fists, unlike these other mercs who piss themselves if they don’t got their precious fancy laser weapons.

18. How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

Charms? You’ve obviously never met me if you think I have any charm whatsoever. I survive cause I’ve been fighting people to the death since I was 14 and taken beatings since I was born. That enough of an answer?

19. Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

Only when I’ve been really desperate and needed the caps. Those Vaults I tell ya, they’re death traps. Just experiments meant to fuck with people, and causing everyone to end up dead. That’s all those Vaults seem to do. Now why don’t I like going in Vaults? Cause the things that killed the original Vault Dwelllers, tend to still stick around. Like when I was hired to do a job in Vault 22…let’s just say I burned the entire goddamn Vault to the ground when I was done and locked it behind me.

20. How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

Stock up on Radaway and Rad-X, easy. It ain’t too hard.

21. What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

Molerats; easy to kill and easy source of meat.

22. What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

Anyone who’s a mercenary will agree with me on this; cazadores. Those fuckers pick up the scent of blood from miles away and will hunt you down til they're drinking you dry. Getting wounded out in the Wastes is a goddamn death sentence, if you’re picked up by a Cazador.

23. How do you feel about robots?

They exist. I don’t exactly trust them though; they just seem like they’re ready to kill you at any second.

24. How many caps do you have on you right now?

Oh you don’t wanna know the answer to that question. Cause if I answer it, I’mma have to put your ass to sleep.

25. Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

Do I look like a kid?

26. Do you do chems?

Of course not. Chems are for fucking idiots who have more caps than common sense.

27. Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

Why should I think about them? They’re all dead, just ghosts. Even them ghouls who still are around, they’re not even alive; they’re just shells, dead people walking who don’t know their dead yet. I don’t bother myself with the dead, I focus on the living.

28. What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

I didn’t kill my dad sooner. Next question.

29. What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

My biggest achievement? I’m still alive. Who gives a shit about what you achieve, if you’re dead?

30. What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

To still be alive, although I doubt it. Mercenaries ain’t exactly got a long shelf life, ya know. But that’s a road I’ll cross when I get to it.

I tag @goblin-deity, @fewal-cowboy, @cyndercrys, @vkm11 and @crackinglamb

#child abuse tw #dark tones tw #solomon tilo

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what-inthe-goddamn · 6 years

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May I please request companions reacting to sole finding an underground garage with a bunch of pre war cars, tanks and other such treasures

Ada: Ada would begin inspecting all these vehicles and comment to the Sole Survivor about their magnificent condition and usefulness; if they could find a way to get them running again. It wasn’t everyday she was able to process and tinker with almost pristine pre-war vehicles. She would advise the Sole Survivor to find a way to transfer these to the Mechanic’s Lair to have a better look at them. Think of the possible discoveries she could make!

Cait: Once the door slid up and Sole and her got to enter it, they were shocked by the sight. She immediately set her eyes on a pre-war motorcycle. She would proceed to dust it off and smile at the crimson paint that still coated the bike despite it being over two centuries old. Cait and Sole immediately took it back to the Red Rocket so they could try to get it up and running again. She always wanted to give one of these motorcycles a whirl. She could see it now: her and Sole blazing down the streets of the Commonwealth, knocking raider and the like left and right as they sped by. The thought made her crack a smile.

Curie: At a first glance of the garage Curie was astonished. Upon a closer look she noticed a bit of rust on the vehicles and recommend that Sole be careful examining them since she didn’t have the means to provide them with a standard tetanus shot. Even so, these vehicles were quite the sight and couldn’t help but marvel at them. She had her eye a baby-blue Corvega, its tires with barely any wear on them. Curie wasn’t capable of operating a vehicle in her former body, but maybe she’d have a chance at it now in her new one. That is, if Sole could even find a way to get them to run again.

Codsworth: The moment Sole opened the garage Codsworth instantly hovered over to a car that was just like Sole’s before the war. Codsworth reminisced with Sole about how beautiful the car was back in the day, when it was rust-free and had a fresh coat of paint. He would wonder to himself if with a good cleaning and occasional maintenance Sole would be able to use it. Perhaps it was a silly thing to hope for, but the thought of having something to look after again was heartwarming; regardless of the fact that he doesn’t have an actual heart.

Danse: The garage was amassed with well preserved pre-war automobiles and tanks, and immediately Danse turned to Sole and suggested that they get this location out to Scribe Haylen. The paladin had never seen so many machines so well-conserved inside of a single room. A rare smile would creep up on his face as he ran his hand over the dusty hull of an old tank that looked like it could still give some serious firepower; despite the rusted treads. But personally, Danse had his eyes on an old pick up truck, with a rear bed long enough to transfer supplies, maybe even a power armor or two? Before he let himself daydream any further he begun to take inventory of every vehicle with Sole’s help.

Deacon: Deacon was blown away when they went into the garage. All these cars, trucks; and hell, tanks were just sitting here for centuries! He opened up the door to a Zip car and joked about getting Des to sign off using these for Railroad operations as he stuffed himself into the little automobile, his knees awkwardly pushed up to his chest as he sat down, a goofy smile radiating from him. “Mm, roomy” he would state, as Sole chuckled and shook their head. Jokes aside, these could actually make traveling with escapee synths a whole lot easier. That is if those Brotherhood assholes didn’t find this garage and take everything for themselves. Deacon wondered if a nice flame decal would make this car stylish, or perhaps white leather seats? The tackier the better.

Dogmeat: Being a dog, he wasn’t really all that excited to be in a closed off garage with a bunch of metal things below the ground, but he still followed Sole as they gazed at the old machines in awe. Dogmeat sniffed several of them. They smelled the same as the cars outside, so he didn’t quite understand the big deal about it. That was until Sole found a motorbike with a side cart for a passenger, perfectly Dogmeat size. He wagged his tail the whole way as Sole pushed it back to Sanctuary to have Sturges look at it.

Gage: The raider was smiling ear to ear when Sole finally unlocked that garage door. All these machines were seemingly untouched by the bombs and wasteland, looking almost as new as the day they were made. Now Gage didn’t know shit about cars, more so how to get them running. But something told him that Sole would have a better idea. The raider gangs at Nuka World could have a lot of fun with these too. It might even make them a little less feisty if they had these to mess around with instead of fighting and killing each other.

Hancock: Hancock let out a long whistle when the door opened. Staring at one of the tanks, Hancock thought to himself how lucky they were to find this before the Brotherhood. He wasn’t too keen on keeping it though, he was peacekeeper, not a warmonger. Maybe Sole and their Minutemen could keep it from others? Hancock’s worrying ended when Sole called him over from the other side of the garage. Hancock walked over to see Sole grinning at a gorgeous black Chryslus Corvega, which looked like it could start up any moment no problem. With a bit of gas taken from the other cars and crafty wire start up by Sole the two of them were able to ride out of the garage and out into the Commonwealth. Hancock wouldn’t have believed until the car suddenly stopped in the road not even three minutes away from where they drove it. Hancock and Sole just looked at each other and burst out laughing, eventually deciding to push it back to Sanctuary in hopes of getting another ride out of it with some tinkering.

Macready: At a first glance Macready just saw another garage stuffed with old cars, possibly filled with ferals. he wanted to make sure that the garage was clear. When it was all good, Macready saw Sole rush over to a Lone Wanderer motorcycle. Sole was gushing about how well-kept it was and whether it could be fixed or not. Macready had to admit, the bike was in great shape, along with the other automobiles in here. The motorcycle’s paint was barely chipped, it almost looked like somebody pulled it out of one of those pre-war magazines about cars that Macready once read. Macready was no mechanic, but Sole was determined to get it working so he agreed to help them push it back to Red Rocket, long as Sole agreed they taught him how to ride it.

Nick Valentine: As Sole slid up the old garage’s door Nick chuckled to himself as Sole sprinted towards the first car they saw. They looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Nick however spotted a car that looked a little familiar. Upon a closer inspection he realized this station wagon was the exact model and color the pre-war Valentine had. He sighed, a small smirk lighting up his face as he ran his hand over the hood of the car, admiring how pristine it was despite sitting in this old garage for over two centuries. This car was twice his age but looked in much better shape than he did. Perhaps Sole and he could somehow get one of these driving. It was wishful thinking, but a car would certainly take the strain off of traveling during cases.

Old Longfellow: Longfellow doesn’t know why Sole dragged him down here in this old abandoned parking garage. He’d rather be off in the bar or fishing but Sole promised that something good was down here. Longfellow wasn’t convinced until Sole told him it could worth some money. Once Sole got the door opened and revealed what was inside, Longfellow crossed his arms and admitted that he was impressed. These ain’t the cars on the surface; all rusted and broken beyond repair. These look like the just came fresh out of them factories. Maybe they could make some money off them after all.

Piper: When she first set her eyes on the newly opened garage, Piper gasped and yanked her camera out of her bag, snapping a picture. She ran up to each car and inspected them, chattering to Sole about what an amazing find this was, asking them about the car models and uses; anything she could learn from them. She stopped in her tracks and whipped her head towards Sole and asked if it was possible to get these running. When she was replied with a ‘maybe’ she grinned and was already thinking of a title; “First Car in the Commonwealth to Run After Two Centuries!!!” or should it be “Automobiles from the Past: Brought Back to Life After Amazing Find!!!”. She couldn’t contain her happiness as she snapped more pictures of the automobiles. Her eyes became saucers after seeing the tank. Maybe they shouldn’t get ALL of these running again, but a car wouldn’t hurt; right?

Preston: The Minuteman couldn’t believe his eyes when he and Sole entered the garage. The bleak light coming from the overhanging lamp didn’t set well with him, so he suggested that they survey the garage first. Once the garage was proven clear of anything hostile, he and Sole wandered around and checked out the various pre-war vehicles. Preston had his eyes mainly focused on the tank, and asked Sole what its capabilities were and if they ever used one. Sole lightheartedly laughed and said no to the latter question, but that they were a common sight during the war and in the Commonwealth before the bombs dropped. But upon hearing how destructive they were, Preston was dismayed from wanting to use it quickly. The Minutemen are a peaceful militia, not an aggressive army like a certain faction. But he didn’t want the Brotherhood to use it either, so what was the possible choice? Sole assured him that nobody could know how to get these working, even if these machines were able to be started up again. Preston eyed the cars and motorcycles. They seemed a better alternative for the Minutemen to use.

Strong: Strong didn’t care for these cars. He saw them as a crutch for humans who were just too slow or lazy to walk themselves. The only good they were to him were scrap for armor and forts. But when Sole explained to him what a tank was he took a little bit of interest, but only because Sole said it could blow up other humans. But when Sole told him they didn’t know how to use it, he dented the hood a couple of times out of frustration. Oh well, Strong was good at killing humans without tanks anyway.

X6-88: The garage was at first just like any other one to him, but when he saw Sole’s awed reaction at the vehicles he noticed that these were in decent condition. X6-88 was curious about the automobiles and asked Sole multiple questions about their capabilities. Sole explained to him how most pre-war citizens owned a car and would traditionally use it to get around almost everywhere. X6 was impressed by the creativity of the pre-war humans, even if wasn’t as advanced as some of the technology the Institute had. These vehicles would be useless to the Institute besides research interests. However, Sole seemed excited about their find, so maybe it couldn’t hurt to attempt to get one working again.

#fallout imagines #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #my post #fallout ask

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